Auburn Sky
by VixD
Summary: Sherlock can store anything he finds useful to him in his mind palace working like a hard drive. Helena can memorize a map of a city and make the fastest routes possible. The two are found as complete bizarre people; freaks. One a detective the other a crook. Prides too strong that they need one another. [SherlockxOC] IN PROGRESS
1. Chapter 1

Some would say the best views of London can be found in the most obvious locations. The London Eye, Big Ben, some say Tower Bridge. One person would argue to the death that those are wrong. A person known as Hawkeye says the top of a tower dubbed The Shard is the only place to see all of London. Most attempted to see from there, only scaling the tallest tower of the Europe Union can earn one the stunning view.

Only a scattered few have succeeded, but only done it once and never again. The result of failure was not death, of course. No one has gone far enough to earn death, not before getting called on to be reported to authorities. This hasn't stopped Hawkeye, nothing can stop her. She saw the world differently than normal people, she found it as her way of thriving her very eventful life. Normal people just see London as a crowded, bustling city and nothing more. Hawk though, she saw things that made her both glare and grin down at the city. Two different worlds in people; the rich selfish ones and others with poor struggling ones.

That fact wasn't what made Hawkeye special, her name did have a purpose. When scaling buildings and eyes of the sky she saw maps, hiding locations, escape routes, and safe places to sleep. She had London in the palm of her hand. All it took was took was one glance and Hawkeye can see her flawless 'strolls' through the city.

Cold, it's always cold in London, England itself is a cold damp country. A slight shiver ran down her spine as a passing gust of chilly morning air rolled by. She took in a deep breath of fresh air closing her eyes, and letting her arms stretch out. It was like floating, if only it could last forever. A smile stretched out, yes, this was heaven to Hawkeye.

"Is someone up there?"

"I see a figure!"

"Don't be stupid! Who would be insane enough to even be up there?"

"Looks like a statue."

"Wait! Let me take a photo!"

These were constant comments made when bystanders saw someone on a roof. Hawkeye disappeared before any more attention could be brought to her. Though this time was different and attention Hawkeye hated. Once that was brought, it was sure enough to bring trouble to her peaceful moment. The distant sound of sirens made her open those chocolate brown eyes to glance down. Yup, there were the infamous white and blue flashing lights and display of a crowd. The hood over Hawkeye's brown/red hair helped some not know who she was and hide her face in case cameras tried to zoom in on her. Wearing all black of cargos, boots, and a hooded jacket helped her hide almost all of her. Police constantly mistook her of a male; mostly thanks to her appearance and style of fighting. They've never been close enough to actually see her face.

The smile faded but her arms stayed out. This wasn't the first time Hawkeye was reported of her 'spectacular' stunts. If not this, than the reports were made against her crimes on the streets.

"Don't tell me it's him."Groaned the voice of the stressed Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade exiting the car that had just pulled up. His short gray hair was as messed up as it could be, just woken up to this call. Eyes blinked from getting the tired out of it as he adjusted his tan coat against the cold.

Police worked fast to keep people at bay, as some scrambled to find the security of the building for questions. So far they claimed to not see her, which was aggravating to hear.

"What did you expect?" Sergeant Sally Donovan replied who was just as annoyed as he was. "This time he's got quite the display." He raised a brow at her words, she nodded her head up. He followed her and just groaned rubbing his eyes, he just loved attention didn't he?

"So what's the plan? Send up a team or have an ambulance near by?" She asked getting her walkie ready. They never needed to call one, thank God. But Sally always wanted one by in case an accident were to occur. She would be more ready to call a coroner than ambulance knowing Hawkeye's heights.

"In all honesty, I rather just leave him up there." He mumbled mostly to himself. Greg looked back up, eyes shooting wide at the sight. "What the hell is-"

Before Lestrade could even think of an action to take, Hawkeye starting scaling herself down. People were in awe of this, the fact movements almost like a spider or monkey. No one's ever seen someone do this, or even think it was possible! Was this a creature or human? Some questioned, mostly the authorities.

"Maybe we can catch him this time." Greg gave with little to no hope in it.

Sally shrugged crossing her arms. "We've chased him for months, maybe he's finally given up."

Hawkeye was about quarter of the way down, then stopped and slipped her thin frame through the metal works and onto the floor much to the crowd's shock. That would've taken some strong effort against gravity and her own weight. All the police cared to notice was she was inside with no way out!

"Go! Go in now!" Barked off Lestrade as officers poured inside. They both followed after yelling, "We'll block him off. He can't get out any other way!"

While some were at the elevator Donovan, Lestrade, and other officers towered the emergency stairwell. They kept climbing and climbing, but no sign of the trouble maker. Echoes of panting and stomping would've given Hawkeye the warning of police chasing after her. It wasn't until a half hour later they were growing tired, and stopped half way up the building. Lestrade leaned on the railing looking down in case they missed any floors or see any movement. Donovan looked up for anything as well.

"This is getting us nowhere! Where is he hiding!?" Lestrade yelled running a sweaty hand through his short hair. They had checked all the floors they passed, nothing at all.

The Sargent clicked her walkie earning a high beep, and spoke into it. "Report, anything?"

Static came through along with voices of the officers standing by elevators. "Nothing here, Sargent. No movements out front either." Another static and high pitch beep rang through. "We're at the highest floor, nothing."

Hawkeye had to be somewhere. The group was going to continue moving up, when static returned to the walkie. They all froze as Donovan moved her brown curls from her caramel face to bring the walkie closer to listen. "Yea, what is it?"

Over the static in the background sounded like a woman fretting over something. "We have a report of a stolen jewelry article. The woman here claims her wedding ring was snatched off her hand."

"It was! Even my husband can never get it off!" She cried near by, she had a different accent. Hard to place, though it sounded Spanish

The two made eye contact, with a knowing look.

Lestrade gave an aggravated groan,slamming his hands on the railing. He ignored the pain, his frustration was stronger. "How the hell does he do it!?"

"Anyone make any hand contact with your hand, ma'am?" The officer asked.

The woman sniffled and shook her head, but paused. "Oh, there was this one person who fell in the crowd, I helped them up. I didn't even feel it being taken off!" The daughter comforted her crying mother, assuring her father would understand.

Down the street, wearing an old beat up brown cap with a small union jack sewn on the front covered her features from prying eyes with a low head. A smirk was cemented to her face as she held the expensive diamond jewelry in her pocket clutched in her gloved hand. Hawkeye looked back sneering as she watched the woman have a mini heart attack. It was nothing but an object of love, what purpose could that be to life? Hawkeye scoffed, love was an excuse to toy with people.

Just as she was crossing the street a bus was leaving a stop. Mentally mapping the buses route, Hawkeye tossed her hood over her head, letting the bus pass. She took a short run behind it, grabbed the bottom rim of the back window and latched her boots onto the small bumper which was no trouble for her. People gave odd looks, but assume she was a trouble making teen. The thought on this morning's even being a bust was no long plaguing Hawkeye's mind; it was worth it.

* * *

The telly was a marvelous invention to people. Whole purpose to entertain people with mindless dribble. The dribble can be good, most of the time it can be counted as crap television. But now, on the news, it was covering all the channels on breaking news.

At the flat of 221 Baker Street, the same channel was on the 32 inch Samsung television that was perched on a stand behind a chair left of the fireplace in the living room. It was rarely used, sometimes its purpose was questioned. When used it was only the news channel airing on there. But it was kept there for when the news was needed. Today, the news was being ignored by Sherlock Holmes.

In the kitchen, boxes being opened can be heard along with clinking of glasses tapping and hitting one another. The telly wasn't even given attention while the news station carried on. Piles of papers, unpacked boxes and other unorganized assortments scattered the flat along with newly places furniture. It didn't seem to bother the tenant, as he was responsible of the mess. There was no one to complain about it (other than the landlady).

Carefully the dark haired tall man started putting his chemistry set together in deep silence and concentration as to not break anything. Near black brown curls hung off his head in a messy manner. Hands ruffled through the curls making them more loose and bouncy as he finished screwing the tubes together. Razor sharp ice blue eyes scanned over to make sure it was perfectly secure. Deeming it worthy of use he decided to give it a test run, he strode through the fridge in search of something. Where did he put that bag of ears?

"Now on the scene, police refuse to tell us what exactly was on top of The Shard Tower early this morning. Witness reported it looked to be a statue, some say it was a person." The blond male reporter informed with a crowd of people behind police tape.

A roll of the eyes and a scoff, he got annoyed by the news now. Sherlock couldn't find his ears, deciding to blame the fact they were left at St. Bart's. With long strides, he moved to the living room in search of the remote to turn the telly off. Shoving papers around as the news man continued his report. The thought of organizing popped to his mind for a brief moment.

"I swear, it wasn't a statue! I got video of the person climbing down the bloody tower!" Exclaimed one teenage boy taking his phone out and holding it to the camera. "It was like a monkey or something."

"Finally!" Exclaimed the detective and pointed the remote at the t.v. ready to put it to sleep. Thought his thumb just hovered over the red button, his focus on the video recording on the mobile phone. A black figure scaling down the corner metal structure of Shard Tower. Sherlock's arm slowly lowered as he took slow careful steps toward the screen and crouched down in front of it.

The black figured continued scaling down with ease, it stopped though and slipped through the metal bars getting inside. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, hands pressed together with the remote sandwiched between gently and brought up just below his nose and against his lips.

"What happened after the figure got inside the building?" He asked the teen who pulled his mobile from the camera.

"The police just instantly went crazy!" He exclaimed waving his arms as the reporter stepped back. "They all yelled and just ran in there like-like someone had a gun or something!"

"Do you think this mysterious figure is a threat or in even a terrorist?"

Sherlock resisted to groan at the stupidity he was witnessing.

"I-I-I wouldn't say that.." The teen stuttered looking nervous and excited at the same time. Obviously not wanting to cause a panic or rumors spread of such a thing. "It would be pretty killer to see who it was though!"

The teen soon left after feeling a bit under pressure on the questions the reporter was giving. Sherlock continued to watching, waiting if anything else was given. He dug a hand into his pocket fishing something out.

"Oh, there's the Inspector of police. He just emerged from the building." The camera moved over showing a stressed out of breath Lestrade. "Inspector Lestrade! What of the person? Are they in custody? Was it a threat in any way?"

Lestrade frowned at the camera then at the man. "No, no, just some.." He took a deep breath, still tired from going up and down the stairwell. "Just some crazy dare devil is all."

"Wrong." Muttered Sherlock clicking send on his phone.

"If that is true, why were the police so keen on-"

The sound of a chime went off. Lestrade checked his phone, frown got deeper. He looked back down refusing to give more attention to it. "I-If you wish to ask more, please refrain from doing so." He glanced around. "The whole situation is under control. No one is in any danger, it's completely safe. We just wanted to keep crowd control and-"

Sherlock muted the telly at that time to save himself the trouble of Lestrade's rant. He stayed in that position on the floor, going into silent thoughts; Mind Palace. Analyzing the video, words of witness, and Lestrade's statement within a few seconds, Sherlock determined the person's purpose of being on top of Shard Tower.

Soon Sherlock turned the television off leaving the remote on the stand to keep track of it. "Now, where was I?" The detective stood fixing his bleach white shirt and unrolling his sleeves. His black trousers the shirt was tucked into hugged his thin lean frame with the help of a matching black belt. He slipped on his black blazer buttoning it and threw on his long wool dark coat.

"Oh yes," He looped the blue scarf around his neck a smirk on his lips. "My ears." Sherlock rushed down and out of his flat. Shoes clacked down the pavement, calling a cab for a ride to St. Barts.

* * *

The night has fallen but the mornings event was still lingering. Hawkeye managed to stay out of sight easily from prying eyes of scattered officers. She was sure D.I. Lestrade told all officers to keep an eye out and she wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. After her little escape, Hawk's been hearing people go on about it on their phones and tablets. It made her growl in annoyance, she never wanted this attention. She just wanted her perfect peaceful view of London; stupid bystanders.

Hawkeye was currently jumping roof to roof of flat buildings heading to her next location. It was a big far, but worth it for her goal. She reached the end of the roof of flats, how just a huge gap between her spot and a gas station. "Damn.." Sure she can parkour all through London but even she had limits.

Dark brown eyes scanned around instantly finding a fire escape. Her boots pounded the gavel and she perched onto the edge, starting her climb case by case. Going down the stairs themselves would be too tedious and time consuming for her. It only took her half a minute at most dropping herself to the ground with ease. Thoughts drifted to her success, as she walked in the darkness, of snatching the ring off that woman. Hawkeye gave the ring another look that was now perched on her left ring finger. She kept it there so it wouldn't fly out of her pockets when jumping.

"I need to get this fixed.." Hawkeye reminded herself as she toyed with the small felt bag that was tied to her belt loop. She kept her stolen goods which was mostly small trinkets she could use. Hawk never went for big stuff like laptops or phones; too risky.

Lights shined on her, Hawkeye glanced up wincing used to the dark and grinned seeing the bright half dead neon lights. 'Ferry's Pawn Shop' was a cheap near hidden and forgotten pawn shop near the thames. It was located between two big buildings so it was never given a second glance. The fact another bigger known pawn shop down the street didn't give much hope either. But Hawkeye only went to this one for her traded goods.

The bell rung as the glass door opened signaling a new customer. It smelled of smoke, and Hawk swears to smell weed from the back.

"Ferry!" She barked out taking her hood off "Your favorite customer is here!" Hawk knew she was safe here. Her reddish brown hair fell around her neck in thick layers. A hand combed through, so greasy and unkept.

From the back an arm moved the clacking wooden beads substituting a door to the back as the owner emerged. He has a clean shaved head that was always hidden under a bandana. Today's was red with orange skulls printed over it. Sunglasses perched onto his nose concealing his eye, his blond soul patch was stroked with pride as if it was a trophy. Ferry wore a shirt with words that read 'don't be cocky' with a rooster on the back. Blue navy jeans hung off his hips staying in place thanks to the belt, the clap of his flip-flops smacked the tile floor.

Ferry beamed at the sight of the woman and engulfed her into a tight hug. The man was bone thin so it couldn't beat Hawk's tense fit body hidden under the clothing.

"You've been smoking again." She pointed out poking his rib to let her go.

The bald man waved her hand away pulling back. "It keeps the day fun." He excused in his Brooklyn accent, clearly from America. He sautered over to the glass case counter where all the jewelry was on display. He leaned his sharp elbows on the glass, eyes on her.

"What can I do ya for?" Ferry knew why Hawk came by; pawn her jewelry. "What sad prick leave ya this time?"

"Nothing too gaudy, I assure." Hawk teased as she showed her finger with the ring.

Ferry held up his loupe that hung around his neck and gently took her hand to hold it steady getting a good look at it. He was silent as Hawk looked around casually, the shop contained different sections of antiques, jewelry, small bits of furniture, computers and phones and other such. Despite Ferry seemed like a lazy sod, he was highly organized and kept everything perfectly displayed. He took pride of it in his shop and was eager to have something new to sell. It impressed Hawk.

"Alright," Ferry took in some air tilting her hand, she looked back to listen to his results. "Real diamond." She grinned with a nod. "Round cut stone class with enhanced, the weight is about..1/10 at best. Sett'n is to be a pavé sterl'n silver and by a guess, I'd have to say he was Irish?" The ring was in the shape of a four leaf clover, Hawk guessed the woman's husband was indeed Irish.

"Luck of the Irish, he always said." She shrugged giving a lopsided grin, though it was careless.

"Not much luck for ya there, huh?" He asked letting her hand go as she took the ring off and placed it on the class with a light 'clink' to it.

"How much for it, Fer?"

The man tilted his head back and forth to decide and coughed into his elbow. "I'd say," He cleared his throat. "We're looking at about eighty-nine dollars, but in pounds.." He took his mobile out to convert the money, Ferry was still trying to get used to british pounds compared to american dollars. "Fifty-five at most. And that's just for ya, I don't make these deals with anyone."

Hawk grinned, "I'll take it, and no receipt remember."

"Of course!" He assured taking the ring and returning to the back.

Hawk looked down at the case display seeing if anything she had brought in was bought off. Some necklaces were still there, rings, but a pair of earrings she snatched off a while ago were gone. "How much did you sell the earrings for?" She called looking over.

He returned and looked up from counting the bills. "A good amount." Was all he answered. "Here you are, hope it heals that heart of yours too."

She rolled her eyes taking the money and hid them away into her bra under her jacket. "You know me, I never have a broken heart."

Ferry leaned against the display arms crossed. "How is it ya get into these relationships and not have a brok'n heart?" He grinned. "You're not a gold digger, are ya?"

Hawk gasped pressing a hand to her heart. "You dare accuse me of such a thing?" She mocked and covered her mouth holding up the act causing Ferry to laugh. "I could be worst things, my good sir, but a gold digger I am not!"

"Alright, alright." He waved giggling. "Was it an engagement ring?"

"No, just some two week anniversary bullshit." She waved off. "He was pretty obsessed so I broke this one off."

"Must be if he payed this hefty price over a two week relationship."

Hawk looked at the time on the clock wall and reached for her hood. "I better get going. I'll stop by for a visit tomorrow?"

"No need," Ferry waved off, "Tomorrow taking the day off."

Her eyes glanced to the back seeing movement. Hawk nodded biting her lip to fight back a knowing grin. "Understood. Well, have a good night and relaxing day off." Hawk gave tossing her hood over her head.

"Be safe, Helena!" He called out as she left his shop walking back the street she came from.

Deeming it fine to walk the streets, Hawkeye -or also known as Helena- let her hood drop, hands stuffed her hands in her pockets striding down the street passing shops and restaurants. She passed by people not giving a second glance to her. Stomach growled, she was hungry. A hand placed over it in deep thought, Helena had the money to get herself well earned meal, but she couldn't do that. The money was towards another more important matter than her selfish needs. She shook her head ridding the thoughts of food which was hard to do with her location.

Not fully paying attention, her shoulder rammed into someone's side. Her eyes shot up, "Sorry." She gave softly, moving over to get a look at the person. The coat and high collar was no help, but she saw pale skin, dark hair, and shocking electric eyes.

He nodded to her giving a 'it's alright,' and continued his long strides down the pavement. Helena gave one last glance before looking down to her hand, holding the contents of items she got from that man.

"Too easy." She snickered shoving them in her jacket pocket to look them over later. Pick pocketing coats were nothing to her, and those were deep pockets. Though she felt a bag of something wet inside and it felt cold.

Alright, he got his ears, had a small good meal, back at his flat he was content to work with his chemistry set like a child. Standing in front of the door he searched for his keys, a frown came when he found none in his coat pockets. Sherlock knocked on the door, hoping Mrs. Hudson was there or heard it. Luck would have it, she did as her face appeared behind the door when it opened.

"Sherlock dear, don't tell me you lost those keys already?" She asked moving aside for him to enter. She shut and locked the door watching him ascend up the stairs.

"Apparently so," He continued his way up.

"Do check if you misplaced them!" She called up to him and returned to her flat of 221a.

Sherlock didn't really listen as he entered his flat taking off his coat and scarf hanging them by the door. He got the needed test tubes, beakers and his blow torch set up, returning to get the bag of ears from his coat pocket examining them. Perfect, they weren't damaged in the travel. Sherlock strode to the kitchen beginning his experiment on the ears.

Three in the morning and he was still silently working on this. Ears spread out now clean of blood, most were torched and others were sutured. Currently Sherlock was looking into his microscope examining at the blood cells in the clit ear, the small dish beside him was skin cells of the burnt ears he had. He was perfectly content, then smirked. "There it is.." He muttered and reached into his shirt pocket.. Strange, not there.

Sherlock stood and walked over to his coat searching his pockets, at that moment he frowned. Both pockets were clean empty when they shouldn't be. He kept important things in there; gloves, magnifier, notebook, toolkit, and even his mobile phone. Just to make sure Sherlock checked his trouser pockets; nothing. Blue sharp eyes scanned the kitchen, living room, boxes, bedroom, bathroom. Nothing!

"Mrs. Hudson!" He bellowed out barreling down the stairs in a rush. Said landlady reemerged seeing Sherlock lean over the railing to see her. "No one has been in the flat, yes?"

"No one at all, dear." She assured. "I've been here all day and the door was locked. I would've heard someone come in if so."

Sherlock knew Mrs. Hudson was old, but not enough to lose her hearing. Not when living that close to the entrance of the building. He did see everything was in the exact same place as he left, so no one indeed entered his flat.

"Is something wrong?" She asked with concern on her face.

"Might be.." Sherlock pounded up the stairs leaving a confused Mrs. Hudson at the bottom of the stairs who slowly followed up.

The detective was not one to misplace things, the keys were a slip. Sure, he forgot things at St. Barts but he always remembered to fetch them. His keys, kit, and other essentials he always kept in his coat pockets. He slid the coat on checking the pockets again, still empty. He frowned checking any other pockets on his person, he then caught a whiff of something. Sniffing he brought his left hand up, sniffing his fingers; oil. Grease to be exact, the kind found on metals and pipes. Sherlock sniffed the inside of his pocket, it smelled of it. Why did it smell of that? He had no contact of it at all.

Mrs. Hudson came up just to see Sherlock thinking in the middle of his living room, eyes closed; Mind Palace. Retracing his steps from Bart's to the flat. He had gone to get the ears, after Molly asked about them, he answered briefly and left. Continuing his walk he picked up dinner at a chip shop he knew so not there. Walk was silent after that, until he rammed into someone, returned finding his items gone. His memory froze, going back to the person. Attire; black with brown hat, thin. Clothing is tattered and worn barely washed. Gender; male. Age; late 20s at best, 27. Facial; hidden but eyes were dark brown and hair was a reddish brown ringing around her shoulders and neck. Obviously not washed or cut in so long, overgrown. The person was homeless, this was enough to go on. He replayed the scene of him ramming into him to figure out how he did it.

"You sure you didn't misplace them? Its such a mess one could always lose things-"

"Pickpocket." He suddenly answered grabbing his scarf.

She turned to him, "Pardon?"

He looked to her as he looped his scarf around his neck. "I'll be back late. Don't wait up or touch anything in the kitchen." Sherlock rushed out, almost in anger.

Mrs. Hudson was lost and concerned for when she heard the term, 'pickpocket'. She mumbled about how horrible to have pickpockets on the street and looked into the kitchen. The second she spotted the ears she rushed out and back to her flat horrified to find the ears he so hard worked to get.

"What is this even!?" Helena barked to herself looking at the new stuff she had nicked off the man a few hours ago. She found herself safely perched on a chinese shop not too far where she gained this new stuff. Some slim slidable magnifier, a pair of leather gloves sadly too big for her hands, some keys to a flat not a vehicle, notebook full of chicken scratch, a toolkit of weird instruments, and one object she glared at; a phone. She had no intention of taking the phone but she scooped what her hands had caught.

Currently she was looking through this kit seeing the weird objects it held. Some she knew of forceps, blades, caliper- Was this man she pickpocketed a criminal himself? The kitchen scratch Helena looked over was something of another language not because of what was writing, but the hand writing. Small and sort of understandable, but written too fast for her. Helena did see some science words such as formulas and some pages had big words almost like answers to a question the man had.

"Maybe a scientist." She figured and looked at the magnifier playing with it. "What money do I make of this stuff? I never had this before.." Usually it would be money, small trinkets. This was beyond trinkets. Helena put the notebook, toolkit, and gloves in separate pockets then glared back at the phone. Maybe she should leave it be? If she took it, she didn't have to answer it. She'd have her own phone, use the minutes as much as she wanted. But then again; risks. Someone could know the number and track it. That thought alone made her stand and inch from it as if it was deadly.

The device suddenly rang off echoing into the night causing Helena to jump away from it like a cat to a blender. Someone calling? ..No, it went off once, so it was a text message. She lowered to crouch in front of it and pressed a button as the screen lit up. '1 new message' it read. Helena pressed the green button and it opened with the message, she leaned in to read it. "Whoever owns this, return it." It read.

That alone made her heart skip, the person knew they took the phone! She had to abandon it now- no, get rid of it! If they found it on the roof, police reports and they'd know it was her and be on her case even know, knowing she'd be on roof tops. Helena picked up the phone and ran to the ladder leading up. She slid down with speed and ease landing to the cemented ground of the alleyway. With a quick 2 second map out, she decided to toss the phone into the Thames.

"I would return that if I were you." Came a deep velvet voice.

Helena froze and turned, glad her hood was over her head. Never can trust who was lurking. She didn't speak but kept her fists up in case it to be a mugger.

"I have no intention of this, I assure." The clacking of shoes of echoed, Helena stepped back into the street light, not a soul on the said street as shops were closed and people would be sleeping. It was a quiet part of London that Helena found herself at night the most. But never was she caught like this, for the person was the exact person she had pickpocketed from that early evening.

Dark curly hair, bright piercing eyes, pale pasty skin, and that damned long coat that surrounded his tall slim figure, collar of said coat was now resting low. She took in his appearance, never seen or encountered this man. She didn't know him so he wasn't part of the police, but then again could be under cover. And here she was being confronted by a man possibly working under that damned Lestrade. Helena mentally cussed at herself for not being cautious of her recent act.

The man sighed with his hands clasped behind his back, he looked a bit between crossed at her but also bored. Bored? Was she reading his expression correctly? No, no, that was what a bored look was. Roll of the eyes counted for annoyance, but he indeed looked bored.

"All I ask is for my items back with no intention of a scuffle, if you please." He told, holding a ungloved hand out expecting the items back. "..This isn't an offer." He stated lowly.

Helena smirked, she made a bolt run down the road. He had long legs, could he keep up? She heard the clack of his steps and looked behind her seeing him not to far behind. Ahh, a runner! Helena now had a challenge. Her mind scanned found the perfect route, ignoring the coming car she ran right across the street causing the driver to pound the breaks.

Sherlock kept up, just about dodging the car from hitting him. He expected this not to be easy, so he was prepared for anything this homeless croke had to throw at him. He estimated soon if they continued this way as he kept up the street that his long legs would get him to catch up to the short man. Though unexpected as Sherlock as just within reach, the man took a sharp turn into a narrow street, Sherlock jumped back scuttling through. Thankful for his thin frame to fit as he saw the figure pop out the other end, he sped up. Once out, looking around he heard metal clanging. Blue eyes shot up, widening at the sight before him.

Helena kept her sneer as she climbed up the fence with ease and her narrow speed and perched herself on top looking down. He took a breath and threw himself onto the fence shaking it as he climbed, of course not as fast or smooth as she did. She shook her head and stood on the pipe of it and balanced herself to trapeze across causing the man to pause.

Was this who he thought it was? The figure on the telly? Sherlock Holmes was robbed by the show off on top of Shard Tower!? Just the fact he was robbed baffled him enough. He watched as the figure got onto the roof and hopped on top and turned back. Sherlock just got to the top and grasped onto the metal with dear life watching the figure. With a swift slap of his hand on his bicep he threw up a fist that gripped the phone giving him a good old known signal that just made Sherlock's blood boil. He found this amusing!

A snicker erupted her as she turned and climbed on top the steep roof. Helena took her balance gently and climbed on the other end of the roof sliding down the the lower flat roof next to it. "That was simple.." She told herself as she strode across to find an exit.

Sherlock currently struggled to get across to that roof. He swung from his tight grip on the metal pole for once thankful he didn't have gloves. Then again if he had his gloves and other items he wouldn't be chasing this thief, now would he? It took some time, but he got himself within reached and hoisted onto the roof. Not giving time to catch his breath he scampered over the side, glaring the figure who strode like this was a walk in the park.

Oh, he was a determined man, man on a mission some say. That just made her heart beat faster, no one kept this far to get to her. But Helena knew he would never catch her; no one did. If Lestrade and his police force couldn't catch her, what made him think he could?

"One last… warning." Sherlock panted sliding off the angled roof and onto the flat one. He was high composed other than the rare effort he gave to getting to her and his anger on getting his stuff back. "If not the phone.. At least everything else."

Helena watched him, he didn't move or make anything of a threat. He was really desperate to get his stuff back unlike anyone else she robbed. They can always buy it back and replace things. This man, he didn't think that. Sentiment? ..No, if this was sentiment he'd be begging or force the items from her with high emotions. Only emotions she saw was annoyance and slight anger. Helena found no value to these items. She slowly emptied her pockets, tossing the gloves, kit, and notebook onto the gravel ground in front of her.

Sherlock made no move to get the items, seeing the phone still in her grip. "You're him right?" The figure's face was obscure but he was sure he had a questioning look at him. "Shard Tower."

Ohh, so he saw it? Helena looked at her hand with the phone in it, watching him in the corner of her eyes she went through the phone for more information. She didn't see him in the crowd so the news she guessed he saw this from. No google history on his phone on this, so he didn't research went into contacts, not many but one name caught her eye. 'Lestrade.' The site of the name made her chuck the phone with the other positions as if it burned her. She ran over to the edge of the building, she then saw a trash truck with bags of trash in the back bin beneath them.

Sherlock jogged over inspecting the damage to his items. His cellphone seemed fine as well as his kit and notebook. "Tell Lestrade.." He looked up seeing the figure turned to him as the sun was now noticed in the horizon, the man removed his hood as the hair fell and removed the hat. It was then, Sherlock realized his mistake in his deduction; female.

Hawkeye was doing something more risky than ever, but this man. Something about this man proved he was different than other people. A strong gust of morning wind just as the morning beforehand blew right by letting her hair fly in the wind. "The name's Hawkeye." She stated stepping up onto the ledge. "I'm one of the good guys."

Hawkeye extended her hand holding her hat out and stepped back letting gravity take her. Rushing to his feet, Sherlock leaned gingerly over the edge, nothing was there. His brows knotted searching if this 'Hawkeye' was hanging off of something or was running off down the street. But he saw no sight of her. With a tired sigh, he turned and collected his stuff and continued onto the roofs until he found a fire escape to climb down from. No way was he struggling down that chain link fence again.

The truck honked loudly as it entered the main street, drivers unbeknownst of their little carry on in the back. Watching the sky turn from dark blue to a blue gray was entertaining enough to the grinning girl. Despite feeling sharp things, she fell on some good garbage, thankfully no one threw glass away in trash and recycled it. She'd remember the name she saw in the information of that phone; Sherlock. "..Well isn't that a unique name for a unique man." She muttered leaning back to enjoy the ride until her stop would arrive.

Days had went by since the sighting of Hawkeye on Shard Tower and Sherlock's meeting with said person. He had gotten his ear evidence to a case he was on to Lestrade as well as the message Hawkeye had. Lestrade questioned on it, Sherlock gave a brief description of being robbed of the little thief before Donovan has a bit of a laugh at the thought of Sherlock Holmes being outsmarted by a street pick pocketer. Lestrade knowing the name this person is called, Hawkeye, told all officers to keep an eye out and ask around.

Though Sherlock shared all this information, he withheld the fact Hawkeye was not a male as the other had assumed so. Lestrade never asked so he never told.

After a week, Hawkeye had been quiet in the movement of crimes and stunts. She's chills above roof tops now and then. She's seen Sherlock mostly by that Bart's hospital. She's never been on the rooftop, she made a mental note to scale it sometime. The view didn't match Shard Tower but Helena was sure it was still a beautiful sight.

Ever since that encounter she's felt more off her game. Helena shoved off the thought that it was just a shaken feeling from her meeting with Sherlock. Standing above an apartment building, she looked down at her hand where she cut herself not too long ago. Didn't seem serious so she ignored it. Helena though has felt pain in her neck and wiped some sweat from her forehead. It was cold and she wasn't straining herself so why the sweat? Shaking her head, Hawkeye sat down with a heavy sigh watching the building in front of her.

221b Baker Street. She had passed this street many times without a thought, so when she saw the tall dark pale man enter through the door with said plated numbers gave her the word this was his flat. Within a few days of knowing him, she saw another man enter. Shorter with cute blond hair a limp and dressed in a simple jacket, jumper, and jeans with black shoes. Helena saw he seemed stiff in his stance and walk, was it the limp that caused it. When she recently saw the man again he had no cane or limp, but walked stiffly still. Maybe still recovering, she was no medical person. While watching the flat on her tired days she saw the windows, Helena could easily scale those windows and climb in. The thought made her giggle, what a heart attack to give him to what she could sell in the flat. If anything were of worth to her there.

Hawk gave a thick swallow and stood deciding to scale herself down and walk among the streets. A stumble was in her step but away from the edge thankfully, as she made her way to the fire escape on the side of the building.

Why did he even bother? Should've taken more time to move in but, what choice did he have. Not that he should complain, his flat mate was the most pain in the arse in the world… Well, to him at times. John Watson walked his way back up to Baker Street after texted by Sherlock to meet somewhere. Though when he arrived Sherlock wasn't there, and then texted again saying he was at Bart's and no longer needed. He started this whole helping cases with Sherlock with no trouble, but when Sherlock texted him it drove him up a wall at the sudden drop of a hat.

He looked across the street seeing the flat, he heard noises from a narrow alley. John turned frowning with knotted brows. It sounded like, whimpering, crying? "Hello?" He called, being cautious as well leaning in. "Are you alright?"

Suddenly out of nowhere- thud! John gasped at the sudden drop of someone hitting the pavement. Seeing movement, he rushed to their side finding them to be alive. The body was shivering and having small spasms. A seizer, John thought? No, only the legs and neck are having these. He checked her forehead; fever and high with sweating. Her pulse; rapid heartbeat and difficulty breathing. John noticed a wound on her hand looking a bit infected, then he found the reason for this. With no hesitance Dr. Watson got his mobile out dialing 9-9-9. Like a good doctor, he stayed by the girl crying in pain from the spasms and breathing. He sat her up as gently as he could against the wall and stayed right by her.

Sherlock wasn't one for walks, so he was currently sitting in a cab trying to get a hold of John. He sent about five texts and no response. Surely he was fine, probably ignoring him like he did the other day asking for his laptop that was two feet away from him. He felt the cab jolt a bit and move to the side, Sherlock glanced up at the sound of sirens and saw an ambulance speed right by. It stopped right across from his flat, as he knocked on the glass. "Here's fine." Sherlock informed and climbed out paying the cabbie as he drove off passing the growing scene.

As the tall man strode past, he approached his door taking one final glance. Sherlock did a double take- What was John doing there? He spun and jogged across approaching John who was talking to a paramedic and they rushed out of the back and into the narrow alley. He was more curious than concern if anyone could even mistake that.

"High fever, muscle spasms, rapid heart rate; I'd say tetanus but- Sherlock?" John turned just to see his flatmate arrived with furrowed brows.

"What happened?" He asked mixed between the possible thought something happened to John and this turning to a crime scene right outside the flat. What a calling that would be. But he scanned John over, he was fine so Sherlock diminished that thought.

"I was walking back from your text," Oh so he was still annoyed by that. "And then this.. poor girl fell from above. Almost out of nowhere with muscle spasms."

Maybe Sherlock had walked in right at a becoming crime scene? Eager to see, he moved aside from John to lean in. His grin faded at the sight before him; Hawkeye. He never imagined to run into this girl again but he had, and this was a bizarre way for it to happen. Medical team were gently putting the scrawny ill girl onto the gurney while stimulating her the best they can. The men moved as they rolled her into the truck.

"Thanks." John told with a sigh as the paramedic climbed into the vehicle turning the sirens on and drove down speeding to the hospital. "Well, that was an event." He rubbed the creases in his forehead looking up to Sherlock. He noticed his expression changed a bit from before. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock watched the ambulance take the strange woman away, "Good job, John."

John chewed his lip thinking on his words. "I would say thank you, but the look on your face tells me you mean it in a different way." He licked his lips crossing his arms. "What was good?"

Sherlock glanced down to his medical doctor. "You just caught a criminal." He eyed down the street before turned to cross the street back to the flat.

John frowned with knotted brows confused watching his flatmate walk away. "..Sorry, what?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, thanks a whole lot guys! I never expected you all to really like chapter one so much, it took a long time to encourage myself to write this and I hope it turns out great later on! It will be following the show as this takes place before the Blind Banker. Thanks for the reveiws as well and enjoy!**

* * *

"Sherlock!" Yelled John as he stomped up the steps after the tall detective to their flat. "Sherlock," he called again as they entered said flat. "What did you mean?"

"Mean what?" He asked innocently shrugging his coat off and going to an open laptop on the desk. More or less John's, hanging the coat over his chair by the fire place. Long fingers sped across the keys.

John blinked at him and scurried to the window looking outside as attention started dispersing. "You said, 'good job, John. You caught a criminal'." He said imitating Sherlock's low tone.

Sherlock rose a brow when he heard it, he did not sound like that. "Yes." He agreed to the quote.

"Why?"

"...Because you did." He told slowly, not seeing how John was confused by this. "Good job." Sherlock praised with short smile and returned to typing.

John rolled his eyes and came over slamming the laptop shut almost on Sherlock's fingers before snatching them out of the way. "A little elaboration would be most appreciated, as you love doing so."

"Well, if you were to move your hands off the laptop, I can 'elaborate' to you all you wish." He told pointedly patting the laptop.

John moved his hands letting Sherlock open the laptop to the page he was on. He hovered over behind the detective to see what he wanted to show. The page on the screen was of the Shard Tower incident. John remembered hearing about this when he returned, after a therapy session he had, but thought nothing of it.

"About a week ago, there was a 'dare devil' as Lestrade put it, standing on the top of Shard Tower. The person was chased by police once he started climbing down and into the building. Lestrade never caught him as people started gathering causing a scene, as well as the media's involvement. After a video from a bystander was shown, I had already deduced out he had escape without anyone noticing." Sherlock went on finding it useless for John to read the report as he kept his ears to listen. He stood letting John take the seat while Sherlock softly paced continuing on. "All the while the police were inside, a woman was robbed of her wedding ring in the crowd. She claims it was a tight fit on her finger and it was impossible for her to-"

"Sh-Sherlock," John caught off, much to Sherlock's annoyance of that. "How does ths connect to the girl sent to the hospital?"

Sherlock blinked as if given a stupid question to answer. "...Well, think about it John; The girl fell out of nowhere almost like from the sky. Why would a woman with signs of Tetanus fall from thin air and how?"

It took a while, but John leaned back in realization and pointed to the page, brows shooting up. "She was the one- But you said it was male."

"False claims," He dismissed hands now behind his back still pacing around. "She is mistaken as male by police by her skills, figure, and attire. Common occurrence by idiots."

John resisted to sigh but just nodded to seem like he agreed. "..How does this make her a criminal? Sure climbing towers and buildings isn't a law but I guess one can get fined or such."

Sherlock cleared his throat to continue, making John turn his attention back to him. "All the while the police were inside, a woman was robbed of her wedding ring in the crowd. She claims it was a tight fit on her finger and it was impossible for her to remove it herself unless soaked in something to loosen it."

That pause in this usually meant for John to put in his thought. "..Something like butter."

"Or grease."

"Grease? Like, cooking grease?"

"Oil."

"O-Oil? Where would they get oil?" John asked completely lost at this.

Sherlock grinned, oh lord. "That's where _she _comes into play. The police think she's still inside, but she had already made it out, to the ground and through the crowd. What could she have on her to grease the ring to slip it off?" Sherlock moved to show the video of her climbing down for John to see.

John watched and smiled, getting the idea. "So, she got the grease oils from the metals right?"

"Wrong." Sherlock bluntly told moving away.

The smile fell. "Wrong?...Then w-where? It's the only metal I see her touching." John leaned in to rewatch the video, a bit dumbfounded. "Where else could she get her fingers greased enough to.." When John turn to Sherlock; he was gone. The sound of the front door opening made the doctor jump to his feet and jog down to catch up with him to wherever they were going.

* * *

Comfort… Why was she feeling comfort? Comfort was something she hadn't felt in years. Why now? Comfort was a bad sign… Warmth too. Warmth and comfort two bad things. Taking in a sharp breath smelling bleach and latex, she was somewhere clean. Ignoring the soreness in her muscles, Helena moved her body blinked her eyes open. Something tugged her arm and tightness was around her chest down her waist. This tightness was found to be a blanket keeping her in the bed, and the tugging of her arm was from am I.V. to a metal stand.

Helena felt a tightness in her chest and breathing a bit harder then waking up, ripping the I.V. from her arm not caring about the small bleeding or pain that shoot from her hand on yanking it out. Her attire was a hospital gown that was tied for the side, good no exposing. Helena climbed from the bed and onto her feet, but the numb feeling was still there from her spasms so she struggled to walking to the window trying to work the locks. It didn't help with her injured hand was wrapped after being treated.

"Alright, I'm Doctor-What are you doing!?"

Finally snapping the lock open, Helena started climbing out but the doctor ran over grabbing her arm not letting her out to do God knows what. "Let me out! Let me go!" She cried clawing his hand off her. The drugs made her a bit dizzy still but she was feeling closed in which was causing her heart beat to speed up and breathing to become rapid.

"Please, calm down! You're ill and need to be in bed!" The doctor demanded now pulling her by the waist as she lost her footing. "I'll have to sedate you if you don't calm down!"

Helena threw an elbow at the man's face causing him to let go and hold his nose in pain. This caused her to fall to the ground and scramble for the window. A nurse heard yelling and came in seeing the sight before her, thankfully she had more sedation for her muscles. The doctor took it as the nurse grabbed her around the waist pulling her from the window as the doctor injected the drugs into her.

"I can't be in here! You can't lock me up!" She screeched, but soon was crying noneness before collapsing in the nurse's arms.

* * *

"Sorry, we can't let anyone but family members in to see her." Said the nurse at the front desk looking at the men strangely. "Unless you are family, we can't…"

"I understand all that, I'm a doctor myself. I just wanted my own examination on her if alright." John tried to excuse as Sherlock looked around like a bored child.

Despite it looked like John dragged Sherlock, it was vise versa. Sherlock wanted to see Hawkeye for a few answers to how she got the ring for John and confirm he was right. This was becoming difficult as the stupid people of his building had to have the 'family only' rule to seeing patients.

"Unless you are her personal doctor, sir, I can't-"

"O-Oh! But that's it, I am!" John gave with that idea popping up "Dr. John Watson, I was the one who called for an ambulance for her."

"..And him?" She asking pointing her pen at Sherlock who now looked over.

Sherlock gave a fake smile. "I'm his doctor in training." John gave a quick look before turning back for the nurse to see. "See," Sherlock approached leaning on the desk with a caring look. Fake. "When I heard about one of his patients had gotten ill, I wanted to come by and assist in anyway. Learning about the human body and helping them is something of my passion, and not letting us see her, it's.." Sherlock looked down and back up with glossy eyes. "..It breaks my heart just seeing her struggle without Dr. Watson here assisting her."

John was split between wanting to punch Sherlock or just down right laugh at his words. How could anyone fall for that malarky?

"Ohh, I totally understand you." She gave softly patting his hand.

Okay maybe this woman would. She let lead the two down the hall, explaining the latest with her. "She may still be sedated, but if you are here she might calm down without the drugs. I heard restraints might be needed if she acts up again."

"Once she sees us she should be calm." John said but had little hope in his words that it would work.

The nurse opened the door peeking in, the clatter of her clipboard and a gasped echoed. The men looked through seeing it empty. The nurse ran off calling for a doctor as the two entered the room to investigate. John went to the bed putting his hand there, warm so she wasn't gone for long.

"John." Sherlock called across the room.

John turned seeing Sherlock looking out an open window. He rushed over leaning out, looking around. "She wouldn't! If the drugs are still in her, she could fall off the building!"

"Only one way to find out." Sherlock grinned and left to find a way to the roof with John following.

* * *

The fresh air of no toxins and tight warm enclosed space made her feel so much better. It was cold as hell but Helena was used to cold by now, still she wished she had her jacket. A blue dot perched on the edge of the hospital wasn't the best thought to her. Though when seeing structure nearly covering the building made it easy for her to climb without sight, but it took a while thanks to the damn drugs. At times her foot slipped or she didn't have tight enough grip but she made it. The thought made Helena grin tiredly, not even drugs can keep her down.

None the less, she was still slightly sick and knew she needed the drugs and rest, but didn't want to be in that enclosed tight room. Being in the open seeing and feeling no walls made her feel relaxed enough to take the roof as her spot for resting.

"And to think," Helena turned hearing the door squeak. The drugs made her mind a bit slow so her reaction was a bit dulled, or she simply didn't care being caught. "I expected your body hanging off somewhere."

She found the man called Sherlock waltzing over to her with the nervous looking blond man. He took smaller shorter steps almost as if being careful around her. "..I don't plan to jump.." She gave softly, hand rubbing at her bandages. "So.. You don't have to tiptoe over to me.."

"She is right John, if she managed to climb up here half effected by the drugs what purpose would she gain from jumping here compared to her window?" Sherlock mused as he stood behind her as she sat with her feet dangling off the edge.

"..So, has Lestrade hound dog come to capture me like a dead fox?" Helena mused looking back to the horizon.

"Lestrade doesn't know of your presence here, and I have no purpose of letting him know." He informed promptly. "I am here merely to prove a point."

"And what shiny sharp point is that?"

"The ring." She side glanced to the blond short man as he gently approached. "..How did you get it off the woman?"

Helena was silent, that's all? Not even any doctors rushed up so she concluded that the men hadn't informed she was up here. Her eyes moved to Sherlock who stared at her knowingly waiting for her answer. "...You know don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then you explain it, I'm too tired to." Helena rubbed her head, still dizzy from the drugs. Her climbing up here really took the remaining energy she had in her. She turned her body half way to listen on how he 'knew' on how she committed the crime.

Sherlock sighed, "John, you asked how did she easily slip the ring off the woman's finger." John nodded. "If you were to check her fingers now, you'll find the same oils on there as before."

John looked to her, but she didn't inclined to move for him to inspect her fingers obviously wanting her space. "From the metal bars outside the hospital?"

"No, common mistake. The oils are from the windows." John's brows knotted as Sherlock expected. "The hinges and outlines outside the window has a lubricant like grease to make sure it doesn't get stuck when in need of opening. She used the grease to lubricate the fingers of the woman easily sliding the ring off without the woman even feeling it as it would have dried from the cold morning air, once she notices."

John blinked, never thinking that. Damn, this girl was so resourceful. "..W-Wait, then how did she get out without anyone noticing?"

"That's simple-"

"I climbed out of the window on the other side where below was the building next to it. There was a underground tunnel to the side and the way the sun was the shadows were in my favor. No one saw me climb down that side, jump down to the roof and slide down to the streets blending in with the crowd." Helena informed quickly blinking her now stinging eyes; tired.

The two men looked to her, Sherlock grinned. She read the expression, impressed? It was the same as the night she robbed him. "..Should I ask how you knew it was those oils? You said you weren't involved or talked to the woman." John asked chewing his lip.

"It was because I robbed him did my scent of the oils get on your coat?" She asked raising a brow at him hugging her knee to her chest.

Sherlock's smile fell to a small frown. "More like the pocket." Helena nodded which made her sway.

"Wait, you encountered her, Sherlock? When?" John was struggling at being so out of the loop.

"I robbed him of his rubbish junk the night of the incident. He came after me for his stuff, which I commend to you, good sir." She scout saluted to him John moved closer to her. She was slowly losing consciousness. Being at the edge of the building didn't help John on the thought of her falling off.

"Look, how about we go back inside? You're still sick with-"

"No!" She suddenly barked glaring him. "I am not going back to where they can lock me up.. A-And keep me for their little game of tests!"

"No, listen. I'm a doctor, if you want I can be the one to treat you." he explained, she eyed him. "..They already think I'm your personal doctor so.."

"Cleithrophobia." Sherlock spoke up causing the attention to fall to him.

"..Pardon?" John asked as Helena glared him.

Sherlock's eyes shot to her finding her glare on him. "You suffer from a fear of Cleithrophobia; the fear of being locked or enclosed into places."

The military doctor looked over, that explained her climbing onto the roof. The hospital room was small, she must have had an episode causing the second sedation. "Either way, as a doctor I can't allow her to be up here making her illness worse. The cold air will make her worse as well a-shit!"

Helena's energy was worn out when they took noticed of her falling back towards the edge. Sherlock being closer caught her just in time and moved her body away from the edge towards John. The doctor checked her pulse, "..She needs to be in a bed and rest." He ordered. "But staying at a hospital might make it worse with that fear causing her anxiety. She can't be kept under drugs for that alone."

Sherlock listened and he knew where John was going with this, his blue deep eyes met Sherlock's electric ones. "No."

"Sherlock!"

"She is not staying at the flat, what help would that give?" Sherlocks stood stepping away shoving his hands in his trouser pockets.

"The main room is bigger than that room she was put in. Not to mention she won't feel as if she's being locked away like she does here." John propped her up against his knee holding her. She was small frail, when was the last she even properly ate? Well, she was homeless too.

"John, you can't take in every sick thing you see." He told as if telling a child not to take pets in.

"This is a human being, Sherlock!" He barked now angry, much to Sherlock's shock. Sure he'd seen much of John's angry display but, this one was different. "You also said so yourself, she was a criminal. What would happen if Scotland Yard found her, they'd lock her up. Resulting in her having attacks on this phobia which can result in death."

Sherlock thought death was a bit far, but arguing with John in this angry state wouldn't be the wisest. Tempted, he opened his mouth to do so, but John beat him to it.

"Don't even try to argue with me on this, Sherlock. I live in that flat too, so I decide as well. Not to mention how would Mrs. Hudson feel knowing you let a young woman die from this whole thing when you knew you could have done something. Yes, I know sentiment isn't something of you to have, but you have to have something called guilt in that heart people claim you don't have. And if you even _try_ to leave her here to her fate, than that will prove everyone else right about you."

"...Damnit."

* * *

John: 1 Sherlock: 0

That was the score so far, and it was surely to continue while the stay was being made. Sherlock looked to be pouting which he was, at his chair by the mantel staring at John tending to Helena. John hadn't gotten her name yet as she wasn't given a name at the hospital nor found a medical file on her. Currently he was trying to do so while setting her tea and meal, it was obvious Helena wanted to shovel the food down her throat but was resisting much to John's surprise. Hell the two were surprised she agreed to this at all. But seeing the open room must have assured her it was fine since she's woken up.

"If you need something smaller, I can try that." John offered trying to figure out why she wouldn't eat. "I can't give you the medicine until you've eaten."

Helena now in her usual clothing -now clean- had a blanket over her sitting up on the couch. "I've gone a long mile without food, just toss the meds to me and I'll live."

"I can't," John strained. "You'll get sick if you do, just half of the sandwich at best. It's something."

Helena just crossed her arms and looked away towards the window. It was closed, to Sherlock's orders but the curtains were drawn open for her to see outside.

"We can always just-"

"Sherlock.." John stopped him from his suggestion giving a look over his shoulder.

"Oh come off it, John!" Sherlock stood striding over to stand next to the crouching doctor. "She hasn't cooperated since she's been here. She refuses to give a name, eat, and rather suffer the effects of her medicine than be treated. And just by her looking out the window, she's routed four different ways of her escaping as well as when she took a peek at my room down the hall."

John looked over to Helena who rolled her eyes. "..Routed?"

"I can map things out. I've already mapped out how the whole flat is built from the front door to Sherlock's bedroom." Helena looked over. "You're room is above yes? Smaller than Sherlock's, but not that you seem to dislike it. You're one to keep to yourself on that, so size of a room is no bother but privacy is. So having a room to yourself on the second floor is perfect."

The two men stared at her; one shocked and the other impressed. "..Oh God, you're like him." John groaned standing to move to the other side of the room rubbing his forehead.

"Mapping out buildings that's new." Sherlock commented sitting into the chair by the door.

Helena was silent for a moment watching them. "..Is it that much of a shocker?" She questioned seeing two different reactions. "I mean, hell you seemed mind blown during our chase."

"S-Sorry, what?" John looked between the two who looked up at him. "Chase? When did you chase her? Is there more I don't know?"

"..He's very slow isn't he?"

"Hm, quite."

John exasperated at those statements tossing his arms up in defeat. "My _greatest _apologies…" He trailed off begging for a name to finish his sarcasm remark for the two.

"..Hawkeye."

"Helena."

Sherlock looked to her now his expression change with low brows. "Helena?"

She sighed. "Hawkeye is my street name, Helena is my birth name. Seeing as you two aren't going to tell Lestrade about my location, I.. Think I can give you my first name. After all, you also decided to take me in from that _cage_." Helena spat.

"Okay, before we go any further." John put his hands on his hips looking between the two. "Why was he chasing you?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer, Helena cleared her throat to answer. "Simple; I pick pocketed him the night of the incident with the news and all. We just bumped into each other, while moving I shoveled out what was in his coat pocket." She shrugged. "Useless bits, notebook, weird tools, some.. magnifier- which in all honesty I wanted to keep."

Sherlock scoffed. "Like I'd allow that."

"Continue, Helena." John sighed giving a short look to Sherlock.

"I was on a roof looking over his stuff, when I got his cellphone." Helena glanced. "Which by the way, how did you text that message and know I was there?" She asked the detective.

"Easy; I asked to have the text sent to my phone. I emailed Lestrade I had my phone missing and needed him to send a texted. I asked to text those words exactly as well as a certain time." Sherlock explained letting his hands steeple together under his chin.

"But the timing and finding me?" Helena reached for a tea, John stayed silent in hopes she'd take the sandwich as well. It seemed talking like this to someone with the near same mind calmed her enough to consume something.

"Timing was just luck, finding you was easy. When I retraced my steps to where I bumped into you, I deduced where you would be hiding and eliminated the obvious of a usual pickpocket. Most would hide behind alleys or inside the buildings, but no; you were _on top_."

A smirk broke out on Helena's face. "...That's impressive, Sherlock. We are indeed a like."

"That's what I was afraid of." John moaned running a hand over his face.

"Regret bringing her here?"

"Of course not.. If anything it was good for her own benefit." John argued nodding to Helena.

Now she was chewing on half of the ham sandwich. She swallowed thickly and put it back down, "Can I have my medicine now?"

John nodded and got up to get it from the fridge. Taking note to put it away from the bag of fingers. Sherlock grew silent, hands still in place now at his lips. Helena watched him curiously, and looked around the room. The men had some… unique items in their flat. Skull on the mantle, random books assorted around the shelves, some other items looked to be things found in an antique shop while others were really modernized. It peaked Helena's interest as to why Sherlock and John owned each item in the flat… and what the worth was. But Ferry might find trouble to sell them so he probably wouldn't accept them as much as tech and jewelry.

Sherlock watched her eye everything in the room, what must be going through her head. John soon returned with the antibiotics that Helena graciously swallowed with no trouble and sipping more of the tea. "How long do you plan on me staying? I should be going back."

"Back to what? You're homeless." Sherlock told bluntly making John give his look of disapproval.

Helena glared the dark haired man. "Yes I am, is it bothering you a filthy ill hobo is occupying your couch?"

"Just a tad." He squeaked scrunching his face in fake disgust, but stood and strode to the kitchen.

"Don't mind him," John said taking Sherlock's seat. "He's like this with everyone. And at least until you are better. How's your legs or hand?"

Helena sighed and laid down wrapping the blankets tightly around her. "Numb, even if I wanted to I can't leave until I can properly walk let alone run."

John nodded and leaned back, only noise was the sound of test tubes clinking, so Sherlock was probably doing one of his experiments. John hopped this meant the fingers can be put back at Bart's. "..So, um. How did you do it?"

A scoff escaped her as she glanced to him. "That can mean anything."

"I mean, how did you get on top of Shard Tower?" John asked folding his arms over his chest. He was indeed curious to how it was done.

"That's something I keep to myself." She answered and brought the blanket over her head indicating she was done talking.

John took the hint, he stood with a grunt and walked to the kitchen finding Sherlock was indeed playing with the fingers. Though he guessed pouring some sort of acid over the fingernails didn't count as 'playing'. John poured himself a cup of tea, and seeing Sherlock without one decided to pour him a cup. Once he placed it by him, Sherlock reached for it and sipped it as if expecting it.

"Think she'll try to leave?" John asked shoving a hand into his jeans pocket leaning on the stove.

"I think stealing is something to be more concerned about than leaving." Sherlock answered putting his cup down.

A frown appeared. "Stealing?"

Sherlock sighed and looked up to his flat mate. "John, you forget she's a criminal. She stole that woman's ring."

Watson nodded remembering. "..Does she still have it?"

The dark detective looked back down into his microscope adjusting the lenses for a moment. "No, I asked about any objects she had at the hospital. No money, no ring nothing. So, what did she do with the ring?" Sherlock glanced back up. John's turn.

The doctor sighed in thought, "..Maybe for food or drink?"

"Impossible, she was listed to be malnourished meaning Helena hasn't eaten properly in so long. Notice how she didn't take the food right away or even the tea, she just wanted the medicine and leave." Sherlock corrected, leaning back in his chair and steepled his hands to his lips. "No, she did something with the ring, sold or pawned it at most for money. But if she did, the money wouldn't be put towards herself… But another."

"..Sentiment?" John inquired.

"Something of that sort, yes." Sherlock stood going to the main room getting his coat and scarf. "It's best to keep an eye on her. We can't risk her stealing something and running off to do what knows with it."

John followed seeing Helena had fallen asleep, face no longer hidden under the blanket. "Where are you going?"

Sherlock looped the scarf around him and slid his gloves on. "To research." Was his answer and bounded down the steps not caring to wake Helena or not.

This left John to watch her not that he minded as she was now his patient. With reminding himself she as a criminal made him keep his attention on her at all times. At the back of his mind, the nagging thought that this girl was no danger at all. Not to him at the most, nor Sherlock. She seemed to be the girl to handle herself being homeless for who knows how long. A few weeks, months at most?

John walked to the window looking out as night grew closer. Stomach growled demanding for dinner, question was what would said dinner even be? Thanks to Sherlock using the kitchen as a science lab, cooking or even storing food wasn't possible. He made a mental note to go shopping next week.

The doctor decided to just order Chinese carryout. He knew what Sherlock and he liked, but with Helena eating not as much, he just ordered white rice. It was good for her and wouldn't be too heavy as well.

* * *

Dark musky, filthy and more important, crowded. Though even with his torch helping him light his way through the dark under passages of the carriageway, no one was giving his help. Be it someone in his homeless network or just some homeless person, no one would give him answers when the name 'Hawkeye' was mentioned.

This made him even more suspicious on this. They were defending her, keeping any information that knew of her safe for her. But why? Sure, some people look out for each other, but he assured she was safe at his place after taking ill. Why didn't that assure it for the passable information?

Some would just walk away while others said they knew nothing much. He was getting aggravated by the minute, finding this all for not. Sherlock wasn't going to give up, he went in deeper finding a metal drum with flames spewing from it. People huddle in front of it for warmth, he approached them gently, one of them looked up.

"Mr. Holmes, what can we do for you?" One woman asked rubbing her gloved hands together not caring if they matched.

Sherlock kept his distance, sure he helped them with them helping back, but he still was one to keep cleanliness to his mind. "Without giving the urge to grow silent or walk away, can you tell me anything on someone of the name Ha..Helena?"

Three had already walked away, one kept a watching resisting to leave, while the one Sherlock was talking to raised a brow at him. "You sure you don't mean Hawkeye?"

Sherlock shifted in his stance, "If I said that you would have left without a answer, yes?"

She nodded with a knowing smile. "Helena, or as she likes to be called, Hawkeye is someone very important to us. Someone who cares for us."

"Then why is it no one will speak of her? Not even ones in the network, I've assured she is safe and well." Sherlock told giving a sigh glancing his eyes around.

The one person decided to stay, coughing into their fist. "That's all dandy, but we still shouldn't speak anymore of it." He insisted giving the woman a look to silence herself any further.

"It's alright, Trevor. We can trust Sherlock, we've helped him before." She assured giving him a look back.

The man, Trevor, scoffed and folded his arms shivering as a wind blew by. "I only ask what her motives are." Sherlock stated letting the cold breeze move the ends of his coat about his legs.

"Her motives? She's no criminal, Mr. Holmes. If anything she is a saint, to me, Trevor, all of us." She told straining her voice at how high the defense was for Helena.

"..Saint?" Sherlock questioned not seeing the connection. Helena played 'catch me' with the police and robbed people. Including him! She found it to be a fun game when he had to chase her for his stuff back. It was not fun to him. "How is she a saint?" He asked near spatting at the word.

Trevor sighed, "If it wasn't for her, most of us wouldn't be here now." He stated glaring the detective. "I hear you're such a smart 'deducing' man. Deduce that." Trevor spat at Sherlock before taking the woman's hand and dragging her away to a group by another fire.

The detective found his job done, and turned to return to Baker Street. In the cab ride, he tried to piece together why she would be defended so highly and claimed as a 'saint'. Would Helena agree to that? Sherlock knows he won't get any answer out of her.

Sherlock looked out the window going to his mind palace. Helena stole the ring for a purpose, and after a week no longer has it. The odds of losing it was low as he noticed a small bag tied to her waist to keep said trinkets when she robbed people. When Helena got Sherlock stuff, she gave chase not to get away but to challenge him to get them back. Soon she returned them including the phone. He remember she saw something on his phone that made her toss the device, last on the screen was a text from Lestrade. Made sense, any connection to the police would make her want to get away and cut connections. She liked the challenge Sherlock gave, but found no use to his use was that; money. Trade it in for money. One could get a good amount from jewelry so she aimed for that. Where did the money go after that, not herself, no. Sherlock dismissed that already, but to another. Yes, it was food and water for the homeless, not herself. John was half right, food for them not her.

Once he felt the cab stop, he found 221b in front of him. Sherlock paid the cabbie and left entering the home. Stalking up the stairs and into the flat, he found John sleeping in the chair to watch Helena… Who was not on the couch. His eyes narrowed, door was locked and windows were shut. Sherlock moved down to his room passing the bathroom hearing water running, that stopped him in his tracks. Shower? Within a few seconds the water turned off, Sherlock stayed waiting to see if it was Helena in there. Then again who else would it be?

His answer was given to indeed be Helena as she emerged in his blue robe tight wrapped around her small thin body. She looked up with her auburn hair sticking to her neck and shoulders. Helena wasn't embarrassed or anything in only Sherlock's robe, but she looked better than before.

"..Evening." She gave softly moving some wet strands behind her ear. Sherlock just stared at her, lips thin eyes trained on her. Helena moved away from the door, "Need the loo?" She asked pointing her thumb at the door.

Still no answer, did she break him? Helena got on her toes waving a hand in his face exaggerating her height to his. Him being 6 ft. and her being 5'7 he estimated. Two inches taller than John, poor sod.

"..Okay, I'm going to dry off and change back into my clothing." She told slowly as if Sherlock's brain had indeed broken. "..Is there anything you would like to question or… say before I disappear again?"

Sherlock blinked, and opened his mouth finally stating. "That's my robe."

Helena looked down at herself, "Oh, I assumed so as it's a bit long and tight for John to wear." She looked back up. "..He said if I could I can take a shower. And you didn't want a," She cleared her throat and made the quotation marks with her fingers stating, " 'Filthy ill hobo' laying on your furniture after all." Helena folded her arms smirking.

"That's my robe. Did John say you could use my robe?" Sherlock frowned like a child had his toy taken from him.

Helena chewed her cheek humming as if trying to remember. Finally she beamed a short smile answering, "Nope." And returned to the bathroom with a slam of the door.

"John!" Barked Sherlock stomping into the living room waking the doctor in a shock from the bellowing yell. "I want her out now!"

"W-What!? What happened?" John stumbled to his feet, seeing the couch empty. "Where's Helena?"

"In the loo, just finished her lovely relaxing clean shower getting dressed as we speak. Seeing as she can walk all the way from here to there, stand for a good amount of time for a twenty minute shower. I say it's time to send her away with a lunch pack for her medicine and-"

A sudden thud echoed from the bathroom gaining the mens' attention. John rushed past Sherlock, "Helena? Are you alright?" He asked knocking on the door.

Sherlock watched approaching the entrance to the kitchen.

"Y-Yea, just lost… my footing.." Her voice sounded strained.

"Can you get up? Where did you fall?" John asked hand at the door handle ready to enter if need be.

"Dr. W-Watson.. I need some assistance if you.. p-please!" She cried, giving John the intention to run in and shut the door behind him.

Sherlock removed his coat and scarf, hung it by the door. "Damn." He cussed hands on his hips pacing in anger. Of course, timing was not on his side with this woman. She was fine enough to leave and be out of his flat and sight, but no. Just had to go and fall!

Her fall was indeed bad, she was feeling fine but felt her legs go numb when she was combing her hair out. Thankfully dressed, John carried her to the couch and she laid there for the rest of the night. John went to bed, as Sherlock stayed in the living room into the late night on his laptop. Bored. He needed a case.

Having the homeless woman watch her didn't help, she didn't talk much to his pleasure. But she was instead playing with anything within her reach. Pencil, plate, chopsticks, violi- wait!

Sherlock's eyes snapped up when he heard the plucking of his strings. "No,no!" He scolded like she was a dog dashing to get his precious violin from her thin grabby hands.

Helena gave an offended look. "I promise, I wasn't stealing it. I mean, I didn't make it very far did I?" She asked sarcastically folding her arms.

Sherlock sighed gripping the neck of his violin and took his bow. "If you wish to entertain yourself, I insist you don't." He instructed going to his chair placing the instrument gently.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to be wide awake thanks to that nap I took during you leave. Which by the way, better not have been to Scotland Yard." She told darkly narrowing her eyes at him.

"You should put more trust in me of not 'tattling' you to Lestrade." The detective twirled the bow in his hand watching her pout.

"Oh! Just as you trust me into not stealing any of your knick knacks?" Helena retorted. "Where would I hide them? In your bushy bouncy hair? Or how about up the flue? No one _ever_ thinks to hide anything there!"

Sherlock could argue on that, as that's where he hide his cigarettes. He took a mental note to hide them elsewhere. Helena sighed and rubbed her temples. "Look, how about we make a deal until I am free from here. Because as gracious as I am, I rather be out there." She stated point at the window.

"...Go on." Sherlock insisted taking his violin and sitting down in his chair.

"We can make a deal that you trust me to not steal anything while I am healing, and I trust you to not telling Lestrade of my location." She held a hand out which Sherlock eyed across the room. "Oh come on, I showered. With soap." Helena added chuckling.

Sherlock stood and too long strides over to her. Switching his violin to his other hand with the bow, he gently took her hand shaking it. "Deal."

Helena sighed and laid down, "Good, now all is well."

Helena played with the chopsticks, silence taking over once more. Though it didn't last, the long string sound of a instrument softly cut through the silence. Her dark eyes looked up to see Sherlock playing the violin eyes closed as he stood tall and proud. His fingers numbly held the strings as for the right tunes and bow tilting up and down moving left and right creating the beautiful music. Helena never heard such a poetic peaceful sound living on the streets. It was, relaxing and honestly beautiful. She never expected a high strong inpatient man like Sherlock Holmes to play such a soft slow moving tune on that wooden craft instrument.

The homeless girl found her eyes lids growing heavier as each tune played out. Sherlock took a peek at her, seeing her eyes close and a small smile dance on her lips falling to sleep. He grinned, finding it truth to the soothing sound of a violin to put one to sleep. Much to John's argument, who was no doubt covering his head with his pillow at this moment. Sherlock continued playing for a bit longer making sure Helena as asleep completely before stopping his little private performance and going to bed for his own slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

I got this one out sooner from thanks to my new tablet! I can now write while on the go! So long as I got internet.. Hmm, but yea! If there are misspellings or grammar errors it's probably from the tablet. Still getting used to it. Thanks, remember to review!

* * *

The next morning, Helena wasn't any better. John woke up early finding her with a fever, he placed a cold wet cloth on her forehead and wrapped one around her wrist. Helena constantly removed it and soon it stayed that way, laying on the coffee table. She was cold and shivering wrapping in two blankets, John offering his. The doctor had to go out sadly that day and go shopping, he was pacing for two hours that morning mulling over on leaving her here with Sherlock. He knew the childish man hated Helena being here with whining about her in his robe after her shower.

"Dr. Watson?" John turned seeing Helena waking from her fever sleep turning over to him, the cloth falling to the floor. "Who keeps walking..?" She asked rubbing her eyes.

"Sorry.." He moved over picking it up, it was dry. Placing a hand on her forehead, she still had the fever. "I'll have to get you something to lower your temperature." He told her going to the kitchen to get the cloth wet and cold once more.

Helena curls up again wincing as her leg muscles hurt. She knew she pushed herself with the shower and walking around. Standing in there for about an hour at most, she forgot what a shower or feeling clean even felt like.

The sound of a door opening signaled Sherlock was awake… or always was. Hard to tell, God knows how much that man sleeps. Sort of like a giraffe; tall like one and sleep no more than five minutes. The dark haired detective dressed in his white dress shirt, black trousers, and buttoning on his suit jacket. Sherlock found the doctor in the kitchen at the sink with the cloth. He groaned in annoyance making John speak first turning the faucet off.

"Yes, she's still here." He told ringing the cloth out cold water droplets escape down the drain.

"You're going out." Sherlock sighed peeking into the living room indeed finding the homeless woman sleeping on the couch balled up in the blankets. Ah, thats what the groan was for.

"Well, someone has to do the shopping." John tried to reason turning to him. "While I do that, someone has to stay here and watch Helena."

Sherlock for once was pondering on picking to go shopping… Though last time he did he brought back bread and milk. Can't do much with that. Sherlocked looked to her again, by her condition she should stay asleep during the leave. John walked past his detective friend and knelt down putting the cloth gently on her head not to wake her up. Sherlock then got a thought in his head.

"..I have a case." He speaks up, John turns almost testing the detective's features to see if he's lying. "The Jaria Diamond, offered last night. Remember?"

John shakes his head. "It won't take me long." He assured fixing the collar of his coat. "Besides you said it wouldn't be worth leaving the flat."

Damn he did. He actually didn't find the case all that interesting after getting an email that morning on how he was being demanded to take it. But he won't tell John that. "..Fine." He told stiffly and took his seat at his chair with a huff.

"I won't be long. We need a few things, then I come back, got it?" John asked softly going to his chair tossing his coat on.

Sherlocked looked between the two, as if given the school pet to watch over for the weekend. John knew how he felt 'taking care' of people let alone himself. Hell, having Mrs. Hudson come up to chat annoyed Sherlock enough. But John saw these two could get along; thought alike and were indeed a unique pair.

John soon left to his shopping, Helena still slept, and Sherlock sat watching her intently. He didn't dare move a muscle, not in fear to waking her. The possible thought of drugging her back to sleep came to mind… But then Dr. Watson would know and- Now thinking the effort wouldn't be worth it.

The woman did moved now and then, wincing as she moved her legs. Sherlock watched her intently, taking in her sleeping face, as the hood of her jacket hid her all her hair but her bangs hanging off the side of her face. She soon moved her head causing that damn cloth to slap to the floor. Sherlock hesitated but got up from his seat, picked up the cloth dainty and placed it back, feeling the burning heat from her forehead. That shower, a hot one, didn't help her with standing so long and the temperature of the water. Probably a very long time since she had warmth come anywhere close to her body, longing for it.

The sudden sound of a doorbell made Sherlock tense and looked to the doorway. A client of all days, well maybe an excuse to leave. Mrs. Hudson could take care of Helena-Does she even know she's here?

Soon banging came upon the door, Sherlock sighed and rushed down the steps seeing Mrs. Hudson's door locked. Ah, she was out today. Sherlock walked over answering the door to his new client.

* * *

Today must have been shopping day for everyone. John walked through shuffling past trolleys and trying to find food for them to eat that as needed. People crowded, barely hearing his own thoughts to what to get. John pondered if there were sales going on.

The doctor managed to get some off the shelf medicine to help Helena's fever. As well as some foods for her. Some veggies as well, fruits didn't seem appealing but he managed to get some apples at most. "That should be enough.. Sherlock better not empty the fridge again." He said to himself going to check out.

* * *

"Helena? Helena.." The low voice indicated someone was waking her from her fevered slumber. Good, she was dreaming of some scary stuff from her fever. Her brown eyes squinted open to see Sherlock roughly moving her from the couch. "Get up."

"W-What? What is it..?" She mumbled yanking her arm back that he was pulling her up by. She found him trying to get her off the couch, her mind coming awake but her legs still felt a it painful from the spasms last night.

"Just get up, and go to the other room." He told getting her to her feet as the blankets fell off her.

Helena stumbled getting away from his grip and leaning on the chair by the doorway. "What? How come? I was fine here. And why are you whispering? I'm already awake." The homeless woman grumbled glaring him.

Sherlock gritted his teeth in annoyance, he glanced to the kitchen then to her. "Just go down stairs or up to John's room. Anywhere but here right now." He told urgently and walked into the kitchen.

Helena looked behind her seeing the stairs down to the entry way or up to John's room. She didn't think her legs can get her up or down the flight as it hurt just standing. Not to mention, why was he rushing her out of the room? That and who was in the kitchen angrily talking to Sherlock in some Middle Eastern like accent, or maybe Egyptian. Helena didn't know, she was moving back to the couch when she heard a sudden yell.

* * *

As crowded as it was, the lines in the two self-service checkouts were short much to John's relief. He wanted to return to the flat as quickly as possible, with possible thoughts on leaving the two super minds alone. A short queue started behind him, but he assured himself he'd be quick and out. Just as his turn arrive, he started scanning the items, until-

"Unexpected item in bagging area. Please try again." Came the automated voice.

Thinking nothing of it, John gave a glance around at the volume of the voice and decided to give it another try.

* * *

Meanwhile, things were as what John could never imagine. Helena watched as Sherlock dodged backwards from the kitchen into the living room from his heavy hooded and robed attacking. Shrouded in what Helena guessed was different kinds of material of scarves mostly. Swinging his sword, trying to give a slash at the lanky detective the two moved closer to her much to her despair. Sherlock knocked her back onto the couch and couch himself against her chest by his back trying to fight off the attacker and keep her from harm. -mostly for John's sake-

"Get off me!" She cried pushing Sherlock off. He kicked the man in the chest knocking him off the two, stumbling backwards.

Sherlock stood adjusting his suit jacket and huffed in annoyance at the fact he had to watch himself _and_ Helena of this man. Though Helena herself stood with better ease watching, her heart pumped seeing this before her as Sherlock did more weaving to dodge the swords than actually fight back.

* * *

John was now leaning close down, barcode against the clear screen with the red decter shining up at the item. How can it not scan it? It wasn't crumpled or damaged so why?

"Item not scanned. Please try again." Was the voice growing louder?

John straightened and gave it an exasperated look. "D'you think you could keep your voice down?"

* * *

Sherlock found himself near strapped to the kitchen table -thankfully he moved his set to the counter night before- the sword of his attacker near at his neck in attempt to slice his head off. He kept a tight grip on the man's wrists to keep said weapon from doing so. Thought with a grimacing effort it was becoming hard with his current position. Trying to get him off, Sherlock throws his left knee into the man's right side, still not moving but the painful yelp did something. So he gave the man two more kicks, still kept his grip on him; weakened only a little.

From behind Helena got enough to go into the kitchen seeing Sherlock's distress of becoming a new specimen at Bart's. Helena couldn't use her legs, so she dug her elbow into the man's spine causing him to loosen his grip on Sherlock not expecting the attack or pain. The dark detective seeing his opening pushed the man's right wrist upwards making the point of the blade scrape across the surface of the table but freed Sherlock from possible death. Or just a cut to his cheek. The man thudded onto the floor as Sherlock forced himself back up next to Helena. No time to even thank or question her methods as the man stood again not completely done yet.

* * *

John _**still**_ struggled with the check out, but managed to get all the items scanned. Which took about.. eight times. The short line behind him now grew large seeing so many impatient people made him feel he had to rush out of there. So, the doctor swiped his card at the chip-and-PIN machine and put his PIN code in. He stood back ready to get the near fifty questions of his payment before this stops him.

"Card not authorised." Yes the voice was louder. "Please use an alternative method of payment."

"Yes, All right!" John, with shorter patience, barked at it. "I've got it!" The man behind him gave a look as to why he was putting an effort into yelling at the machine.

The voice repeats, "Card not authorised. Please use an alternative method of payment."

John reaches back for his wallet as the man picks his basket ready to use the scanner next. He finally sees how long the line has gotten and clears his throat in looking for cash. Checking all his pockets, nothing.

"Got nothing." He mutterers and starts backing away at the machine pointing at it. "Right, keep it. Keep that." The man behind him looks a bit bewildered that he left his items back and just… walked off in a huff of anger. Looking down he see he might have possibly left his card in the said machine.

John almost wishes he sent Sherlock out shopping.

* * *

The fight returned to the living room as Sherlock backed Helena away from the man in a distance of safety from the swinging sword. He continued to dodge and weave from the attacker, when Sherlock suddenly straightens and points in a direction behind the man. Helena catches on.

"Look!" He cries.

"Oh shit!" Helena calls out looking and pointing as well which was at the mirror above the mental.

The man half turns in the looking at the mirror for a split moment before turning back. Sherlock and Helena both swing a upper cut to the man's cut, he falls back unconscious into the gray leather chair dropping the sword to the floor. Panting softly from Sherlock as he straightens his jacket glancing into the mirror, also fixing his cuffs shirt, and dusting something off his jacket. Helena pushed her hood off her head leaning on her knees looking up at him panting a bit herself. She hasn't gotten much fun like that since she's gotten sick… Pretty much since she had that chase with Sherlock in the streets.

"That was… what you wanted me out for?" She asked nodding her head to the man.

Sherlock gave a sniff and looked down at her. "Yes, but I see it was good to keep you here." He gave her a wink and glance at the man with disdain.

She shook her head with a chuckle. "What should we tell John?" Helena asked standing straight adjusting her jacket that was off her shoulder now.

"Nothing. He won't need to know an attacker came by with you, an ill frail woman, got mixed up into it." Sherlock looked at her up and down. Yes, she did give a look when the word 'frail' was used. "Though he will question the sudden change in health." His hand rose up to her forehead moving the hair a tad from her face. "..And fever has gone down."

She felt her own forehead once his hand was removed, his hands were soft. "..Huh."

"Fix yourself up, I'll take care of him." He assured walking into the kitchen.

Helena glanced at the man then to the couch. She gently walked over, knees felt a bit shaky but other than that. Her muscles felt as if nothing happened from her illness. Helena picked up the blankets and placed them back over the couch as she threw herself on there watching Sherlock do his work of 'hiding the evidence'.

If John returned any sooner, he might have caught Sherlock dragging the body to who knows where of the violent man. As the doctor came up the flat entering the room, he found the place still in one piece. Though what he didn't expect to find was Sherlock and Helena quietly among themselves, or Helena even awake and looking a bit better. The tall detective sat at his chair innocently reading a book, Helena took note he actually was reading it as there was a paper by his side where from where he last left off. She now perched herself onto the end of the couch trying to get a good glimpse of outside. The windows didn't open much to her disdain wishing for a good breeze of outside hair.

John paused at the door and looked between the two, then around the room. "You took your time." Sherlock commented not looking up from his book.

Helena looked over, and tilted her head, he did say he was getting stuff didn't he? "..I thought you went shopping." She asked softly hoping she didn't dream it.

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping." He answered glancing to her.

Sherlock looked up indeed finding the man with no bags of food. "What? Why not?" He asked a bit surprised that he came back empty handed. Impossible the store had nothing that John mentally listed to get.

John turned to Sherlock and answered still a bit of anger in his tone. "Because I had a row, with a chip-and-PIN machine."

Helena only raised a brow with an amused grin. Oh the looks he must have got. Sherlock tried to picture it, as to why he was arguing with a unresponsive machine. "You.." He lowered his book more, tilting his head still a bit befuddled at John's answer. "You had a row with a machine?"

"Sort of." He answered. "It sat there and I shouted abuse at it. Have you got cash?"

"Did it eat your card?" Helena asked, "Or your cash?" She added.

The two glanced to her, "I got no cash on me and.. I left my card back in the machine." He swallowed.

Sherlock gave a bemused smile. "Take my card." He told nodding to the kitchen where his wallet sat on the table. Must have fallen out during the struggle.

John gave a glance to Helena before moving to the kitchen, but he paused and gives Sherlock an indignant look. "You could've gone yourself while I stay here with Helena. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not moved since I left, Helena sick and she's moved more than you have." Sherlock sighs as he nonchalantly turns the page of his book.

Helena gives a sighing smile and shakes her head, oh how he didn't know. "You wanted me to stay, so I stayed to watch her." Sherlock defended.

"And he's been so good!" She praised having Sherlock nodd in agreement. "Telling me tales of his cases, like this one guy who jumped and attacked him without a thing to do." Sherlock gave her a death glare from the corner of his eye. Oh, should've expected this. "Only to have him be rescued, giving him the title damsel of distress." She gave a wink to him only to turn back to John who was rummaging for the card in his wallet.

"That's good. So, that case you were offered- the Jaria Diamond?" John asked hoping he didn't really leave and she has a fever dream.

Sherlock took the paper he used as a bookmark into the newly turned page. "Not interested." He answered with a 'bored' tone and shut the book, looking to Helena. Her eyes shot down, Sherlock shortly kicked the sword further under the chair from John spotting it using as an excuse to cross his legs. "I sent them the message."

John finally found the card, then noticed the mark on the table. Sherlock watched him as John rubbed his finger feeling the damage with a sighing whisper. "Ugh, Holmes." He leaned on his knuckles looking to Sherlock who looked back like an innocent puppy. John just trots down the stairs as Sherlock smirks to himself tapping the book waiting for the door to shut. Once he heard the slam, he put the book to the side, reaching down for the sword.

"Where is that bad boy gonna go?" Helena asks more sitting on the arm of the couch to see outside better.

"I'll have a place to put it somewhere… Unless you want it?" He offers pointing it in her direction.

She gives it a look and shakes her head. Helena wasn't a sword person and Ferry couldn't make much money off of that. She had a better chance with the skull or violin. "So," Helena hugged her knees careful of the printer behind her now noticing it. "is the everyday life of Sherlock this?"

"Not everyday." He muses getting up to hide the sword somewhere in his room. John never really went in there unless Sherlock asked him to get something there.

"Not a boring life then, right?" She called playing with the ends of her string entangled sleeves.

Sherlock returned and sat at the dining table opening the red laptop that sat there all morning. "It can get boring." He said with disdain. Obviously not a fan of boredom, who would be?

Helena nodded and sighed sliding back onto the couch. While Sherlock typed away clicking a few times, the girl got bored herself. She stood and gently walked over to see the books he hand leaning a hand on the side of the shelf behind the detective. 'The Diary of Jack The Ripper', typical of him. 'Signature Killers',' Holy Bible'. "Woah, never seen a bible before." She chuckled tapping it gently.

Sherlock watched her in the reflection of the screen seeing her look over the books. Not in suspicioun of her stealing, but to see what she was picking to read. Helena first pulled out 'Mother Courage and Her Children', but seeing the cover made he slide it right back in. She browsed more and tapped on 'Sleepers: A True Story When Friendship Runs Deeper Than Blood', notting to read that later. Finally she pulled out of her interest, 'Bringing Down the House: How Six Students Took Vegas for Millions'. Helena nodded plopped into his chair opening the book to begin reading. She didn't think twice on Sherlock having this American book, but she's seen the movie and the methods of how they got the money would be of Sherlock's interest.

Helena soon moved to sitting at the window by Sherlock as he gazed at the email he had received that morning. Though he dreaded at opening at first, but then when the call of being a consulting detective and 'begging for help can into play. Sherlock folded his hands at his lips in deep thought to help this old school mate.

Helena and Sherlock revelled in the silence between them. Only the sounds of London life echoing in the background for them.

* * *

Slamming the door behind him with the shove of his foot, John staggered the stairs with a strong effort carrying several plastic bags.

"Don't worry about me I can manage." He told sarcastically at Sherlock who cast a short glance his way.

Helena looked up engrossed in her book noticing John's return. She knew the sarcasm was indeed to the consulting detective and not her. Soft thunks of the bags plumped onto the table as John started putting the assorted foods away.

"How are you feeling, Helena?" The doctor asked from the kitchen.

"A tad better, yes. Maybe I can finally be on my way." She told cheerfully knocking her knees together.

"I'll be the judge of that." He chuckled.

"Her fever has broken, though still has trouble getting to her feet and standing for a long period of time." Sherlock said giving his input.

Helena gave a scowl towards the man, who hide the urge to sneer. John shook his head, then looked to his flat mate seeing him stare down the screen of the laptop. Hesitant but asked, "Is that my computer?"

"Of course." Sherlock answered and started typing a reply to the email.

"What!?" He exasperates shocked Sherlock's quick answer.

"Mine was in the bedroom." Helena snorted at that looking between the two.

"What, you couldn't be bothered to get up?" He asked stepping into the room removing his coat.

"Something like that." Helena grinned turning the page, she reached up on the desk to Sherlock's left getting a piece of paper to use as a bookmark.

John looked to her than to Sherlock. "It's password protected!"

Sherlock tilted his head to acknowledging that statement. "In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours." He glanced to John. "Not exactly fort Knox." He told showing his disappointment to John's chosen password.

"Right," John slammed the laptop shut, Sherlock moved his fingers to above them being shut on. "thank you." John took his violated laptop away from him and placed it on the floor by his chair and sat down in it.

Sherlock blinked not able to send the reply, rude. Helena watched the two with a grin as the detective propped his elbows on the table and pressed his hands together against his lips with a thoughtful sigh. John looked over the mail he found to his left, Helena closed her book and finally spoke.

"Are you two married?"

John shut up with that, "No- Why does everyone think that?"

Helena stood leaning on the wall wincing a bit. "Well, seeing how Sherlock took your laptop and you did the shopping using his card. Then you two have little back and forths with each other." She walked slowly to Sherlock's chair sitting across from John who watched her. "Either brother's or married. You two look nothing alike but then again, genes tend to jump around."

His jaw hung off a bit, not expecting that whole thought on why she assumed they'd be a couple. "..To answer that, Helena we are not married nor brothers. Just.. flatmates." he sighed looking at the bills. "..In need of money." He mumbled that last bit.

The homeless criminal chuckled, "Well, if money is what you need-"

"Not that kind of money." John stated furrowing his brows at what she was about to imply. That night she fell, Sherlock explained how she was getting the money and where that ring had gone to.

"Come on! Just one item, and you can call it payback for taking care of me." Helena said a bit more serious.

John looked to her more softly. "You don't have to pay us back." Sherlock mouthed 'us?' with a short confused expression on why he was involved. "As a doctor I felt it was my job."

Helena sighed and leaned back getting comfortable or tried. How can Sherlock sit in this damn chair? John looked over seeing a red bill, needs to be payed urgently. Great, he shakes his head chucking it back onto the small side table. "I need to get a job." John states to himself.

"Oh, dull." Sherlock comments now folding his fingers.

Helena pondered on how they were to even get a flat if John didn't have a job. Wasn't he a doctor? She thought they got paid extremely well, Jewish most of all. But obviously John wasn't Jewish. But Sherlock seemed fine in money, hell how much does his attire cost alone?

John chewed his lip in thought and looked to the bill and back at Sherlock inwardly debating something. He leaned forward clearing his throat, "Listen, um.." He told feeling awkward on mentioning this in front of Helena. But she was homeless, so maybe she could understand. No, bad John, thats rude. "If you'd be able to lend me some.." He trailed off seeing Sherlock wasn't even paying any attention to him. Helena kept hearing blaring sirens, extremely curious to what was happening outside.

"..Sherlock, are you listening?"

"I need to go to the bank." Not even listening to John, Sherlock stood from his chair and walked past to get his coat and scarf from behind the door.

With knotted brows, he glanced over too late to even ask Sherlock what he meant. Or even discuss on Helena being left alone here. The doctor glanced between her and the stairs to where Sherlock descended.

"Can I trust you without leaving?" He asked standing up to get his coat on.

"I can barely walk, I doubt I'm going anywhere." She assured, "And I made a deal to Sherlock I won't steal anything." With a grin Helena held two fingers up like a scout, "Homeless' Honor."

John chuckled at her, "Don't strain yourself." He called going through the kitchen and down the stairs to catch up with his detective friend.

Helena sighed as she looked around hearing the door slam with a shut. She looked over to her wrapped hand and started unwrapping it, looking at her healing wound. Almost wishing she had her medical shots updated to not be confined like this. Curious, she got up with a bit of effort and started wandering around the flat.

John and Sherlock were quite the pair of flatmates. She padded into the kitchen, green shades of tile on the wall matched the one shaded green walls. The light hanging above the kitchen table was very odd she in the kitchen. It reminded her of the lights that hung above cars in garages of a mechanic's shop. While the living room look a bit old like, there was some very high-tech appliances in the kitchen. The toaster it had 4 slots which looked shiny and clean much to her surprise. Beakers that look to have been recently washed sat in the sink waiting to dry. Though John had just gotten some fresh food the, kitchen had an odd scent coming from the fridge. Finding herself a bit curious, Helena opened the fridge only to slam it shut quickly. She was sure she saw a bag of a tongue. A human tongue.

Helena Iet out a shutter, hoping to erase the image of that from her memory. Sherlock was indeed a unique man. Unique didn't even have place to the word to him, she took a mental note to look up a word for him. There was a dictionary on the shelf.

Down the hall, Helena saw two doors. She knew one was the bathroom, the other was Sherlock's room. Door shut to keep her out, the thought of it being locked got her eager to find out. Her hand gripped the door knob and twisted it, oh its unlocked. The door cracked open, brown eyes peeked in seeing no traps or alarms that she expected to go off. Opening the door wider the room became a clear view.

It was... Nothing Helena expected. The living room was left half a mess, but the room was spotlessly clean. Bed perfectly made, knick knack neatly placed on shelves, she took a double take at the sound player across the room.

"Well, hello.." She greeted, grinning ear to ear maneuvering around his large bed and to the system. "Never expected him with this beauty." Helena didn't dare touch it, as he seemed to like his room kept perfect. OCD she guessed.

Her eyes scanned around more, she just found the room so fascinating. Probably from not being in one for so long let alone a flat at all. Feeling her knees quake a bit, Helena moved to sit on his bed. "Hm, comfy." She moved up and propped herself up in the middle and sighed at the comfort. Damn, how could she leave now? Helena found herself sinking into the bed more and more until her head was now on the pillow.

"Sherlock wouldn't mind if I took a short nap.." She yawned and turned her head closing her eyes, getting comfortable with folding her arms tightly. Feeling relaxed and at ease, she took a voluntary nap in Sherlock Holmes' bed.

* * *

With a new case, Sherlock was fully focused how this little bizarre crime occurred. His phone echoed out the snap shot sound effect as he took photos of the graffiti damaged painting. He turned seeing the symbols spin softly around his mind as he looked out the window see the Swiss Re Tower across from the bank building. Sherlock looked away in thought, and wandered over to the glass pulling the blinds up and dainty opened the glass gently stepping to the edge. Wind blew around roughly as the cloudy sky shined no sun upon the city. Eyes soared seeing the distance of London, the thought of Helena seeing this everyday came to mind. Sherlock looked down to see the ground hundreds of feet below, he barely saw the people from the distance. Head shot up trying to figure it out, maybe through the window to get to the room. But how to get up here? Seeing the clip of Hawkeye scaling down the building came to him, he shook it off and re entered closing the glass shut. She had bars and structures to grip onto, there's nothing to grip onto to get up here.

Back on the trading floor, Sherlock slowly raises up seeing something intently looking back and forth. Nope, he move backwards as people watched this strange man dance around the room. Sherlock side stepped backwards and hide behind a few computers, then rose up again looking left and right. He repeated this method until he found himself shimming behind a desk in an office, there. Sherlock could see the upper defaced painting now. Leaving the room with a glance around, he saw the owner tag on the door- Edward Van Coon. He slid the tag out and sped off to meet John at the reception desk.

Time to find Van Coon, but first a pit stop.

* * *

Shuffling and mumbles awoke the hobo as she groaned stretching her arms and legs out. They were feeling a bit better, guess she didn't have it as bad. Though if it wasn't for Dr. Watson she'd be strapped to the bed in the hospital drugged out of her mind.

"Sherlock? John?" Came a soft calling voice. Sounded old, Helena got up from the bed ignoring the crease she gave to the blankets and sunk in look to the pillows.

Looking down the hall she nearly bumped into a surprised old woman. "Oh.. Hello." She greeted with a confused smile. "Friend of Sherlock's?" She guessed as Helena was in his room.

"Ah, no!" She said quickly shaking her head. "I'm just.. Dr. Watson's patient. Sorry, I fell asleep in here after they left on a case."

The smile went wider, and her eyes brightened. "Oh, that's alright dear. I'm surprised Sherlock allowed it."

She went back into the kitchen with Helena following. "I'm Helena by the way." She told with a soft smile to the elderly woman.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson the landlady." She gave a cute stern look then, "Not a housekeeper."

Helena giggled, "I understand. Were you looking for the two?"

Mrs. Hudson walked to the living room where Helena found a tray with tea and some biscuits. Looked like she made them herself and the tea was smelling good. "Sherlock moves the food around a lot so I make sure they have some tea and a snack." Helena smiled taking Sherlock's seat once more.

"Well, I'll join you for tea." She offered in her friendly tone.

The friendly woman smiled at that, guess it's been a while since she's had tea with anyone here. With the two on cases and barreling out of the flat. "Oh, that'd be lovely!" She poured the tea and handed Helena hers and offered some biscuits which she took graciously. "You sure look healthy for a patient of John's." She said to strike a conversation taking John's seat with her own cup of tea.

"That so? Guess I am getting better, a night or so ago John took me from the hospital. I'm not very fond of them." She paused to sip her tea, wow it was really good! Helena forgot how good it was. "Actually, he found me when I got sick and got me there. But seeing my distaste for it offered to take care of me here." She explained with a shrug excluding the details, she chuckled, "Sherlock hated me here."

"They are good boys they are," She assured including the odd detective. Helena bit into the biscuit. Oh god, this woman was a saint! "It takes a while for Sherlock to get to know people, though he went with John straight away." She smiled sipping more.

Not fully understating her statement, Helena just nodded. "They are a pair. Just looking around," Her eyes scanned around the room. "and they do bicker like a married couple." She laughed taking another bite.

"Oh, one your better you must simply visit. I barely get to see the boys with their work, and it's been a while since I spend time with a cute younger woman." She praised patting Helena's knee.

A blush crept onto her cheeks, her cute? She was a homely crook, what was cute about that. "..Thanks." Hiding herself behind her cup sipping more of her tea. "But sure, I'll come and visit. If you promise to make these same biscuits. Did you make them?" Helena took a bite into her third one.

"Oh yes! I always make my own food, never prepackaged." This woman was so cute, Helena could count her as her own saint when hiding or a bit of coverage depending the weather or her on the run from the cops.

A door slammed downstairs and sound of footsteps pounding up the steps gave the two women their attention to the doorway. Sherlock appeared, but no John. His eyes shot straight to Helena, "Change and come with us." Ah, John must be waiting outside.

Helena though blinked, what? "..Get changed into what?" Her answer was hesitated as Sherlock bolted up stairs but returned just as quick chucking a jacket and shirt at her. The jacket looked to be one of John's, and the shirt.. Also one of John's though it was a blue plaid button up.

"Change and meet up downstairs. Quickly." He stated turning to leave.

"Sherlock, she's ill!" Mrs. Hudson scolded getting up to her feet putting her tea down.

"Does John even know?" She asked as Mrs. Hudson tidied the cups and took the tray moving around Sherlock to go down stairs.

Sherlock sighed at her slowness to not going to change her shirt. "He will, I want you with me for something."

With a roll of her eyes, she removed her jacket roughly chucking it at his chair. She revealed to Sherlock who got a good short glimpse, that she only wore her sports bra under her jacket; no shirt. He looked away politely facing the stairs downwards. "What for? Money? I thought you guys were going to the bank?" Helena buttoned the shirt on, a tad big but fit pretty good. Then she shrugged the jacket on and took one last biscuit, "..You can turn now, Rosey Cheeks." She teased going to stand in front of him at the door way.

Sherlock gave her a glare, he was _not_ blushing. "We have a case, something I think even you'll find interesting." He started down the stairs.

"W-Wait!" She called, he looked up seeing her not budging. "..Are the police involved?"

Seeing her hesitance, and how she held her arm nervously showed how much her trust to him was on the line. He took a step up putting a hand on the railing. "No, but they might." Sherlock raised a hand to pause her protests. "I told you to change attire because if they see you dressed just like, they'll instantly connect that you are Hawkeye. They don't know your gender or face so you'll be fine."

She watched his eyes, seeing he really did want her to follow him with this case. Almost, desperation in those bright striking eyes. Helena sighed and gave her arm a rub, going down two steps to match Sherlock's gaze. "I trust you."

* * *

John protested the whole cab ride to the address Sherlock informed to the cabbie. He kept going on how Helena should be resting and was still a bit warm. But she walked fine down to the cab, and was inwardly happy to be out of the flat and outside. She watched the sights near excitedly, never seeing it from this point of view.

Helena saw a street as the cabbie turned and leaned over to the cabbie, "You might want to take the next left." She informed him, "Then after two streets a sharp right." He gave her a look through the rear view mirror.

"Why did you tell him directions?" John asked looking at her curiously, surely the driver knew the way.

She looked to him proudly, "Around this time the traffic down that road gets worse from lunch breaks from business offices. Would've taken ten times longer or get trapped in it. Not to mention this route is smoother and faster then where he was going." Helena explained folding her hands in her lap.

John blinked as he felt the cab indeed make the instructed turn. "..How?"

"I hang around at that time to get a view of the city life. Like clockwork, same thing everyday at the same time. If I was on foot, I'd be that the destination by now." She sighed missing her parkour action. "Which by the way, Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" He hummed acknowledging her as his eyes set sights outside.

"Why, once again for the fourth time, did you need me for?" She strained in asking again.

Sherlock only gave her a half grin. "All in good time." He told and looked back out letting the grin fall. "I trust it will indeed peek your interest."

Helena only groaned throwing her head back as the cab made the sharp right. "Better be worth it, I could be sleeping."

"Yes, I'd appreciate it if you didn't sleep in my bed or go into my room. Assuming the door being shut didn't give the hint of staying out of there." Sherlock added a bit bitterly.

John turned to look between the two, Helena was in his room? Slept in his bed? Her jaw was hinged open shocked he knew. But soon it clamped shut and she grinned. "Lock it next time." Helena retorted back, making Sherlock resist to roll his eyes.

Once they made it to the apartment building, Sherlock climbed out first, then John then Helena who John stayed by in case she needed help. At the front Sherlock pressed the buzzer marked 'Van Coon.' Helena raised a brow at the name, as Sherlock looked into the security camera with John and Helena at the side. Brows knotted at no response so he buzzed again, but still no response.

He glanced at the buzzers as John asks, "So what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?"

"May as well, he could be out somewhere for lunch or meeting." She guessed with a shrug.

Sherlock steps back looking up at the front of the building calculating the layout of the flats inside. Helena sees what he's doing and goes over, pointing at a tag. "Wintle, lives above Van Coon."

He came back over seeing the tag difference. "New label, just moved in."

John looked to Helena who matched his gaze and sighed. "I watch people, John. Don't make me explain myself constantly."

"Join the club," Sherlock mumbled pressing the buzzer.

The doctor rolled his eyes. "All right, but she could have just replaced it."

"No one ever does that." Sherlock states.

Helena nodded, "I saw her move in a few days before you found me." She confirmed.

"_**Hello?"**_ Came a woman's voice.

Sherlock turns to the camera with a smile, just as Helena ducked out from view. "Hi! Um, I love in the flat just below you." He starts with a tone a bit higher and much more friendly. "I-I don't think we've met." He smiles.

"_**No, well, uh, I just moved in."**_

The detective gives John a look that proved him and Helena right. He turns back, tone still there. "Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat." He bit his lip with a grimace, Helena bites her is amusement.

"_**D'you want me to buzz you in?"**_ She asks kindly.

"Yeah," He nods and the smile drops to a straight yet curious one. "And can I use your balcony?"

"_**...What?"**_

Sherlock had succeeded in getting the three inside, though Helena was dragged up to the balcony with Sherlock while John waited outside Van Coon's room. The two go to the edge and look over, Helena grins missing a high sight of something. Helena looks down at the street a bit longer as Sherlock moved to the side seeing the balcony below them to Van Coon's. She looked over seeing Sherlock slowly climb over the edge and shakes her head.

"Amature." She insults him as she jumps off the edge with ease and lands with a roll to the bottom though stumbled a tad getting to her feet.

Sherlock lands carefully and looks to her as she grins. "Missed that?"

"God yes." She answers. He looks over the edge once more as Helena moves to the double door, one creaks open getting his attention. "...Unlocked."

The two enter gingerly walking around taking in the flat that is heavily decorated; rich. It came to Helena's mind and her sights were on prices of what she could trade in for. "Don't touch a thing." Sherlock demands slowly making her groan softly and follow him deeper into the flat.

Sherlock looks over everything going into the kitchen and checking the fridge, wine was stored inside. Oh, he could touch things, Helena thought. But, he was a detective.

"Sherlock." John called from the other side of the door, "Helena?"

Sherlock checked the bathroom seeing no one as well. Helena peeked in, "Why would his back door be unlocked but no where to be found?" She asked feeling it grow tense as they continued on.

"Sherlock, are you okay? Is Helena alright?" John called again.

"Exactly my thoughts." He responded glancing at the items on a near by shelf.

Seemed they both were too focused to even acknowledge John's calls. "Yea, any time you feel like letting me in."

The two are stopped by brown wood double doors. Sherlock turns the handles only for them to be locked. He steps back as she approached to jiggle the lock testing to see it, she nods to him. With a quick run they both shoulder charge at the door busting the lock and the doors flew open. Free to walk in, the two stop short finding what they were looking for. Van Coon dressed in a suit laying on his back on the bed, pistol on the floor. A small bullet hole was plain to see in his right temple; dead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the review for the review on the latest chapter! Mrs. Hudson reminds me of my grandmother before she suffered Dementia. I am updating fairly quickly and I hope to keep this streak up! Tomorrow I get a day off and a closing shift next two days so I might throw another chapter in by tomorrow night or Monday morning. Enjoy!**

* * *

Helena wasn't new to violence, living on the streets and fighting her way to live another day. Dead bodies, same for other reasons. But as she stood around the corner watching the photographer taking pictures of the dead man, she fought back the urge to run. Police were indeed called and John promised Lestrade still didn't know Helena was with them- or Hawkeye. Sherlock had discarded his coat and scarf by now, and as pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Forensics were elsewhere of the flat so she stuck by John and Sherlock.

"Do you think he lost a lot of money?" John asks shifting foot to foot with folded arms by Sherlock. "I mean, suicide is pretty common among the City boys."

Sherlock looks to him to reply before going to the suit case by Helena. "We don't know that it _was_ suicide."

"Come on. Door was locked from the inside; you two had to climb down the balcony." John argued.

"He climbed, I jumped." Helena corrected watching Sherlock crouched down looking at the contents of the suit case. John sighed at how Helena was pushing her luck on her health.

"Been away three days, judging by the laundry." Sherlock stood and looks to John. "Look at the case. There's something tightly packed inside it." He tells seeing John not paying much attention.

John nods, "Thanks- I'll take your word for it." and looks away again. Helena frowned, was he annoyed? Angry? She moved closer to the pair standing between them.

"Problem?" Sherlock questions with knotted brows.

He looks back, pausing before answering. "Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear."

"I've done worse." Helena gives rolling on the balls of her heels as Sherlock strides to the foot of the bed. John gives an almost curious look, but refrains from questioning.

"Those symbols at the bank, why were they put there?"

"What, some sort of code?" The doctor inquires stepping to Helena.

"Obviously." He examines Van Coon's legs and shoes moving up to opening the man's jacket looking inside the pockets- nothing. "Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use email?"

Helena sighed as she still wasn't told why she followed along with them. "Maybe to scare him more?" Sherlock gave her a look making her carelessly shrug. Just the sight of the rich man and his highly attained flat made her have no sympathy to his death. Cruel, yes. Maybe he had it coming to him. Who knows.

"Well," John tried. "maybe he wasn't answering."

"Oh good. You follow." He praised checking the vest pockets- nothing.

"No." He responded bluntly earning his own look from him. Sherlock moved to examine the hands. "What kind of message would everyone try to avoid?"

John thought looking up in confusion as if the answer was on the wall. Helena noticed this, and had a few answers but those connected to this couldn't be possible.

"What about this morning? Those letters you were looking at?" Oh he did notice, John looked back seeing Sherlock moved at his face now.

"Bills."

Helena moved closer seeing Sherlock gently open Van Coon's mouth and grasped something inside. Once out, the sight of a small black origami flower is seen by the two. "Yes. He was being threatened."

John leans in as well seeing it was indeed a paper flower. Sherlock gets a plastic bag used for evidence and slides it in. "Not by the gas board." John comments.

Helena frowned hearing a male voice come closer in demands to the officers. She tugged John's sleeve as she pulled back in fear of it being Lestrade. Though the voice was higher pitch and younger, when he entered it was indeed not Lestrade. Helena was dodging bullets today. John noticed her nerves getting to her and nodded in assurance as she stayed behind him. Sherlock looked up about to remove his gloves, but saw the man.

"Ah Sargent. We haven't met." He offers his hand for a shake, though the young man's hands stayed on his hips.

"Yeah, I know who you are, and I prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." He told giving Sherlock a cold look as he lowered his arm. He handed the man the bag who took it looking to the body, Sherlock eyed him.

"I phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way." He questioned.

"He's busy." Wow was Helena on a roll. "_I'm_ in charge. And it's not Sargeant; it's Detective Inspector." He paused. "Dimmock."

Sherlock gives a near surprised look, this was a young man, younger than Sherlock. Hell, younger than Helena for sure. How did he rank to Detective Inspector? As Dimmock turns to leave, Sherlock shares his expression with the other two. John simply shrugs as Helena eyes the man suspiciously. The three follow him into the living room as Dimmock hands the bag to one of the forensics.

"We're obviously looking at a suicide." He states proudly, Sherlock throws his head to the side at that.

"That does seem the only explanation of all fact." John agreed much to Helena's own surprise.

"Wrong." Argued Sherlock as he removed his gloves turning back around to them. "It's one _possible_ explanation and _some_ of the fact." He looked right at Dimmock a Helena came close between he and John.

"You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it." John sighed seeing where this was going to go.

"Like?"

"The wound was on the _right_ side of his head."

"And?"

"Van Coon was left handed." Sherlock moved his arm to try and point a gun at his right temple with his left hand showing the difficulty in the process. "Requires quite a bit of contortion."

Dimmock's scowl was growing. "Left handed?"

"Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice." He gave sarcastically. "All you have to do is look around this flat." And zoom, he went! "Coffee table on the left-hand side;" He pointed two fingers towards the table. "Coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: "Then to the sockets a bit farther. "Habitually used the ones on the left. Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. D'you want me to go on?" Sherlock asked looking to Dimmock with his voice growing with impatience.

John tiredly answers, "No, I think you've covered it."

"He doesn't looked convinced to me." Helena supported with folded arms.

"Thank you, Helena. I might as well, I'm almost at the bottom of the list." John nodded at that not expecting Sherlock to stop. He pointed to the kitchen, "There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." Dimmock was now completely annoyed at this point.

"It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the _right_ side of his head." Helena nodded in agreement. "Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. _Only_ explanation of _all_ the facts." He snapped.

The forever silent woman now cleared her throat to speak. "Not to mention, if he had managed to shot himself, why wasn't it as messy?" John looked to her, was she on Sherlock's side? Dimmock now eyed her but she didn't notice. "When a point blank shot is made in close range, it causes a blood splatter or more damage to the head. That was a clean shot right through from a long distance. There should be blood all over his head and the bed as well. Not even a drop was made though."

"My point exactly" Sherlock nodded proudly to Helena patting her shoulder in a thanking notion. Only Dimmock still argued.

"But the gun. Why-"

Sherlock's head leaned back, God was he going to ever understand. "He was _waiting_ for the killer. He'd been threatened."

Dimmock watched Sherlock walk over for his coat and scarf. "..What?"

John explained this time to keep the detective from exploding. "Today at the bank. Sort of a warning."

Helena looked to John, "That's why you went to the bank?" John nodded with a 'I'll explain later' look. Great, more waiting.

"He fired a shot when his attacker came in." Sherlock looped the scarf around his neck and took his coat.

"And the bullet?" Dimmock questioned finding this becoming more absurd.

"Went through the open window." He stated simply shrugging the coat on and pulling his leather gloves out of his pockets.

Dimmock was down with this and rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on! What are the chances of _that_!?"

"Just as Helena said; the result in a close range fire would not result in his position or the result of the wound. Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun. I guarantee it." Helena smiled at her statement getting recognition.

Dimmock had one final question; "But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?"

Sherlock's brows rose up as he slams his hand into his glove. "Good!" He told condescendingly. "You're finally getting the right questions." He then turns and struts out with a hint of anger towards this new D.I. Helena looked to Dimmock and quickly follows after him, John hesitates but soon follows the two.

Sherlock and Helena walk a head down the hall to the elevator with John behind. "Excellent." He said, making Helena look over.

"..Pardon?" She looked up with his hands at her side swaying softly.

"That comment on how it wasn't suicide." He explained shorty.

Confused at first, she then realized this was his way of thanks. Helena shrugged, "Call it common knowledge. But you're welcome. I think I rather have had dealt with Lestrade than that prick."

Sherlock grinned at her chosen word for the young Inspector. "I have to agree on that." He told softly for her ears only.

"So, where to now?" She asked making it to the elevator and pressing the down button.

"Inform my client." He answered hearing the ding and entering the elevator with her and John.

"How are you feeling?" He asks her, Helena looks to John with a half smile.

"Better, I really think I should be moving on soon." She insists folding her hands in front of her. "I'll repay you both as soon as I can."

John chuckled, "I told you, Helena. You don't have to do that."

"No, but I want to."

* * *

The three took a cab to where Sherlock deduced where his client would be having a lunch meeting. The client turned out as John explained was a old school mate back in Uni with Sherlock, Sebastian Wilkes. Helena's face scrunched at the name, and the way Sherlock described him he sounded like a jerk wad.

They made it to a fancy restaurant where Helena resisted the urge to steal little chips off of some tables. Finding Sebastian, Sherlock was the first to speak not seeming to care he was at a lunch in.

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant." He told as John and Helena stood beside him.

The man, Sebastian looked around not expecting Sherlock back like this in middle of his work- or lunch. "I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?" He asked with a fake grin his way taking his glass of water for a sip.

Oh yeah, total Jerk Helena decided. Sherlock sighed, "I don't thing this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian," Though he really wasn't. "One of your traders -someone in your office- was killed."

The grin faded instantly, "What?"

"Van Coon." John spoe. "The police are at his flat now."

"Killed?"

Sherlock took a glass of one of the men's water, "Killed; Murdered, eliminated, assassinated, shall I go on?" He took a sip to hide the grin from the sass Helena just showed to the man.

"Sorry to interfere with everyone's digestion. Still wanna make an appointment? Would, maybe, nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" Sherlock question slamming the glass down.

Sebastian looked around nervously pulling at the collar of his shirt. He stands and nods for them to follow to not discuss this in front of the other men. Helena, though she wouldn't care almost followed them into the men's toilets. John stopped her and said he'd inform her on it all and to wait outside. She sighed and agreed to it and waited by the door watching the people eat and enjoy meals without a care of the world.

In the said toilet's, Sebastian washed his hands as John leaned back against the sinks and Sherlock stood off to the side. "Harrow;" he started. "Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while so.."

"You gave him the Hong Kong accounts." John told, earning a glance from Seb.

He reached for a towel drying his hands. "Lost five mill in a single morning. Made it all back a week later. Nerves of steel, Eddie had."

"Who'd want to kill him?"

"We all make enemies." he rebuttoned his suit blazer.

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple." John replied quickly.

A mobile phone's beeped echoed out. "Not usually. 'Scuse me." He fished his phone out and read the message turning to Sherlock. "..It's my Chairman. The police have been onto him." He paused and looked to Sherlock expectedly. "Apparently they're telling me it was a suicide."

Sherlock quickly retorted, "Well, they've got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered."

He eyes Sherlock, almost looking disappointed. "Well, I'm afraid they don't see it like that."

"Seb." He gives sternly.

"And neither does my boss." He put the phone away and gave Sherlock a crossed look. "I hired you to do a job. Don't get side-tracked." He left the loo passing Helena who looked up curiously to see him leave first.

She gets a glance from him, he pauses, and turns back. Oh God, what did he want?

"You're with them, Sherlock and all?" He asks her watching her curiously.

Helena blinked and side stepped, "In a way, yes and no. Sherlock dragged me out to this."

Seb grinned at that, "Well, hope he doesn't side track you." He turns and leave to return to his lunch meeting.

Frowning not understanding what she said, she turned and opened the door peeking into the bathroom seeing the men standing there. "I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards." Came John's voice.

"They are." Helena grinned earning a sigh from the doctor.

"We're done here," Sherlock informed leaving to the door as Helena moved for him to exit. John followed as did Helena.

"So, a man was murdered, the client is a prick, now what do we do?" Helena asked exiting the building as Sherlock hailed a cab.

John turned to her, "Usually we wait to see if anything comes up. Though a clue was left, so-"

"So, Sherlock will be spending his hours to figure it out?"

"Yup." John confirmed.

Helena watched Sherlock have trouble get a cab, she went up to him. "You said before," She spoke as he sighed with no taxi stopping. "You needed me for something. So far," Helena made a face and looked up. "that 'something' hasn't arrived. Instead of making me wait, just _bloody_ tell me why you ripped me from the comfort of the flat with your nice landlady, enjoying our tea and homemade biscuits!"

John blinked not seeing her anger show for a good while, guess this was building up. Sherlock sighed looking up at the evening sky for a moment before looking down to her. "I wanted your professional opinion." He took his mobile phone and pulled a photo of the defaced painting up showing Helena. "This was floor on the high floor of the bank office."

"..What building?" She asked looking over the picture before he took the phone back.

"Tower 42."

Helena starred off, mapping out the lay out of the building, it was a across from Swiss Towers. Second tallest skyscraper in London, she's never attempted to climb that though. Oh, would she wish to. But the stricture and built gives her no chance of griping onto anything. It's all glass, only least possible way is the shimmy up between two pillars, hands and feet splayed on the sides. Even then the possibility of getting anywhere to the fifth floor would be too risky. she shook her head, impossible and the person would be spotted by the time they got to the second floor; day or night.

John and Sherlock watched, it reminded John of seeing Sherlock when in his Mind Palace. He guessed she was in her own, Sherlock waited patiently for her resulting answer. Soon, she snapped to them.

"Impossible for anyone even me to climb up that building without any support or equipment. Between each pillar looks to be narrow enough to climb up like out of a crevasse or a chasm going upwards." Helena put her hands out to the side and spread her legs showing for example. "Even if they could, they'd be noticed right away and cause a scene much like my own displays. It's the second tallest tower, impossible for anyone to just go up and climb down with ease."

John blinked as Sherlock smirked. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." Soon the awaited taxi arrived, back to Baker Street.

* * *

That night, Helena spend another night in case another fever broke out, by John's orders. Sherlock had printed the photos he took at the bank and taped them onto the mirror above the mantel. The healing criminal was on the floor feeling her legs were sore from her adventure with the boys, so she sat there spreading the book where she left off. Her jacket back on and returned the shirt and jacket to John. Dr. Watson was on his laptop typing away with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Something to look forward to, Dr. Watson?" Helena asked glancing to him.

He looked up, "Sort of. Found a clinic I can possibly work at."

Helena perked up putting the book down to her knees. "Of course you can, you're a doctor."

"Military Doctor." Sherlock corrected.

She looked to Sherlock then to John. " ..Ohh," Helena nodded with understanding, she closed her book and stretched her legs out on the floor. "I know some people who came back, like this one engineer who was denied a job because he was in Iraq. If they even question about you being in the military, tell them you carry a gun." She threw a smile as John chuckled.

"Jobs are dull." Sherlock stated once more.

Helena just let a small laugh out as John signed getting to his feet. "Thanks, Helena." He gave closing his laptop, no doubt planning to take it up to his room. "Get some sleep." John suggested going up the stairs to bed.

Helena soon got up with a small grunt and sliding the book back into its place on the shelf. Sherlock looked between the pictured standing in front of them, now and again his fingers pointed around directing things in his mind. Helena perched onto the couch watching him wit tired interest. Her eyes darted to the stairs, she really couldn't wait to leave.

"No one will stop you." She turned to Sherlock who still stared at the photos, but Helena knew he peeked at her from the mirror. "Leaving that is."

"..What would John do if he found me gone the next morning?" She asked hugging her knees with her chin on them.

"Scold me for not stopping you as you escape back to the life on the streets." Sherlock gave nodding his head at the window. "Go on about how you're not fit to be out again, when clearly you are perfectly fine to be on your own and being Robin Hood of the homeless."

She grinned, always hearing that term towards her. She likes Hawkeye better. "And you?" Helena questioned as his eyes shifted to her form in the reflection. "You'd be glad a filthy ill hobo will be off your couch and none of your concern, yeah?"

Sherlock blinked and turned to her, almost contemplating his thoughts on her question. First meeting she stole his possessions causing a chase between the two to get them back. Second encounter was at the hospital where John 'forced' to have her stay there so he can treat her properly with the help of her phobia. Now he even asked her opinion for this case on how the defaced painting and the murder was committed. Did he want her to go for getting out of her hair or stay for the case?

"Highly." He answered and focused back onto the photos.

Helena smirked and shook her head taking a blanket and putting it around her shoulders. Her eyes shot outside the window hearing cars beep and people passing by chatter. The life of the city at night she loved to watch, if only she had a better view.

"You'll see me around for sure. Besides," Her eyes shot to him as she stood, letting the blanket fall to the couch. Her feet lead her to him standing beside him to see the photos. "you'll know where to find me, I'll put a good word in around the streets."

Sherlock glanced down to her, he watched her turn and walked past the kitchen and into Sherlock's open bedroom. He stared a bit longer, and then back to the wall. Even if he tried to stop her now, she would be gone out his window by then. Hawkeye was back and free once more.

* * *

The next morning shined.. well, semi shined. It was sunnier than the day before that was for sure. Though it shined for someone, not yet hoping on roofs but now was just strolling over them watching people venture around. Hawkeye smiled seeing the life of the city, she was welcomed back the night before in open arms to her homeless friends. They were doing good during her leave, much to her relief. Right now, Hawkeye was simply relaxing in the warm sun that rarely showed itself.

Thing was, something bothered her in the back of her mind. Those two days at 221b Baker Street was new to her; warmth, comfort, care, company. It's been so long since she's had those. Sure those she helped offered it back, but she said they needed it more than her. Hawkeye did assure if Sherlock looked for her, she was to be informed. The case he was currently on got her mind on that. Climbing up to murder, so she wasn't the only daredevil in the city. And his methods were far worse than her own, she had limits but she also wasn't a murderer.

Because Lestrade was busy, Hawkeye decided to take the chance to get some cash checked in. Her stomach growled, "..Hungry." She commented and looked down the street. Not far, Hawkeye had gone enroute to her source of food.

* * *

It was silent once more at 221b. Sherlock was alone once more sitting on one of the dining chairs staring at the photos. Fingers steepled under his chin as variant symbols of different languages faded around in his mind. After Helena's leave, Sherlock looked up on anything of recent murders. It wasn't until dawn he found a news report of one on Online News. 'Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for police' with a photo of the recent victim. Which proved he was right that Van Coon's death was indeed murder, not suicide.

John returned from his interview which he thought went rather well. Entering the living room, he found Sherlock but no Helena. He guessed she was in the bathroom or down with Mrs. Hudson as he did hear her talking. Tossing his coat onto his chair, Sherlock asked,

"I said, 'Could you pass me a pen?'." He stated not looking towards him.

The doctor looked around, did he mean Helena? "What? When?"

"'Bout an hour ago."

John glanced around again picking up the pen. "To Helena?"

"You of course."

A sigh escaped , "Didn't notice I'd gone out, then." John tossed it at Sherlock looking to the wall, Sherlock catches it in _perfect_ ease without looking himself. He moved himself closer seeing the photos.

"Yeah, I went to see about a job at that surgery."

"How was it?" Sherlock asks.

"It's great. She's great." John slipped up.

Sherlock's eyes darted to the doctor. "Who?"

He turns around to him. "The job."

"'She'?"

Realizing his mistake, he slowly corrects. "...It."

Sherlock eyes him a moment, he brought one woman home. He hoped not to have another here again. "Here, have a look." Nodding his head to the laptop beside him folding his fingers.

John walke past Sherlock's view and leaned on the desk to read the article. 'An intruder who can walk through walls murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from Earl's Court was found shot in his fourth floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and there were no apparent signs of a break in. A police spokesman said they are still uncertain how the assailant broke in.' Brows knotted as John read back the sentence to himself. "The intruder who can walk through walls."

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon." Sherlock explained.

Straightening up, he looked to his flatmate. "God. You think..?"

"He's killed another one." Sherlock confirmed narrowing his eyes and flattening his hands to a prayer again.

John sighed and moved past him to the kitchen. "What did Helena think on it? Any answers from her opinion?"

Sherlock got up and picked his scarf up looping it around his neck. "We'll ask after seeing the crime scene. First, to New Scotland Yard which she will refuse to follow us to." He threw his coat on and bounded down the stairs. John soon followed putting his coat back on, not even noticing Helena wasn't even in the flat since last night. Nor did Sherlock find the purpose to tell him, as he'd find out himself soon enough.

After convincing Dimmock with the news report that it was connected to the first killing, Sherlock and John got at most five minutes in Lukis' flat with Dimmock as well. Sherlock was at first going to bring Helena, but didn't have time to find her and if John discovered then the investigation would've been held off more. They walked through the flat, Sherlock inspecting everything with a two second glance. First thought coming to mind, he struts to the window and looked through the curtains seeing the buildings and ground. A smirk played on his lips at this sight.

"Four floors up. _That's _why they think they're safe." He turns walking over looking around some more. "Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut; think they're impregnable. They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in." Sherlock turned back to the stairs spotting exactly what he was looking for.

"I don't understand." Dimmock admits as Sherlock walks past him.

"You're dealing with a killer who can climb." Sherlock hopped up on a stool to get to the sky light.

"What are you doing?" John joins the two as Dimmock questions the detective's methods.

"He clings to the walls like an insect." He unhooked the latch and snapped the window upwards opening it. "That's how he got in."

"What!?" Dimmock was not following what so ever. Where was this man going with these random facts?

Sherlock turns to him. "Climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through this skylight."

Dimmock rolled his eyes. "You're not serious! Like Spiderman?"

"He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon."

Dimmock shook his head at Sherlock from his rant of an 'explanation', laughing softly in disbelief. "Oh ho-hold on!" Though he continued.

"And of course that's how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace." Sherlock steps down and gives another look around. "We have to find out what connects the two." Looking down at the stairs, he skipped down and picked up a book from the West Kensington Library. Hoping to find answers, Sherlock speeds down the stairs.

Above, Dimmock thinks on Sherlock's words as John darts to the top of the steps. "Climbs like a spider…" John paused looking to the Inspector. He nods to himself, and looks to John. "Heard about that incident last week? The man who was on top of Shard Towers?"

The doctor blinked, "Um, yeah." Dimmock grinned but John felt his heart sink. "..Y-You think that sh- he did this? Killed those men?"

"Who else publicly climbs buildings and escapes without a trace?" Dimmock was convinced, but John was worried. "It has to be."

He trailed down meeting Sherlock outside getting in a cab, quickly following after. "West Kensington Library." Sherlock informed the cabbie.

Once the car was in motion John turned to him. "Sherlock, Dimmock thinks he know who did it."

"That so? Is it me?" Sherlock questioned boredly looking out the window.

John hesitated, "No, um, he thinks it's.. It's Helena, or Hawkeye I guess."

The consulting detective sunk the words in, chewing his lip in thought. It can be a possibility, but he talked with her and she had an alibi for Van Coon's death. Not to mention Helena explained that she can't do what Sherlock says this killer is doing. Her style of climbing was different to this one, he knew she wasn't a suspect.

"..He might try to hunt her down." He said worriedly.

Sherlock scoffed, "What makes him think he can catch her. Lestrade can't even keep track fo her for more than three minutes."

"Well, all we have to do is keep her safe at the flat." John said looked out his window.

"..She's not there." Sherlock stated.

John bit his lip and looked over, what did he just say. "Sorry, what?"

The tall male turned to his short blond friend. "I said, 'she's not there'." he stated slowly. "She left last night."

Blinking in shock, he adjusted his seat looking to the side then back at him. "And you never thought to tell me? Did you stop her, even try to keep her there. You have to warn her, somehow, we can keep her safe at Baker Street-"

"She's not meant to stay, John." Sherlock told sternly giving John a low stare. "Before you start stating that I didn't want her around, it's not. She needed to be out there, that's why I brought her with us. To get her some air and to assure she wasn't locked away like you intended. Helena was bound to leave soon, she'll be fine, John."

The doctor breathed through his nose and looked out the window, still concerned for her. "Better be right about this one." He told.

Sherlock turned back out the window. He felt sweat built in his hands so he removed his gloved and folded a fist at his mouth rubbing his hands together. Where was Helena right now?

* * *

Sitting on the edge of a Chinese laundromat, Hawkeye nibbled on a bag of fried noodles she snagged from a opencart. When John ordered chinese her first night there, they had an extra bag of fried noodles. They were so crunchy and crispy, Helena grinned enjoying her little snack.

"Hawkeye?" She perked and looked over, who was that? The latter clunked as Trevor climbed over the step grinning at her. "There you are."

She extended her arms out in a welcoming notion. "Here I am! Please, come into my lovely abode. Tea? Crumpets?" Helena joked faking a cockney accent, and offered her bag to him.

Trevor chuckled and moved to sit beside her, but kept his distance from the ledge. "Thank you, m'lady." He gave with a posh accent and took a few munching on them.

The two sat in silence watching the people below them. Trevor was the same who had mouthed off Sherlock when asking about Helena a few days ago. His old hockey beanie keeping his shaggy dark hair in place, hazel eyes scanned about watching people leave and enter shops. Once done he wiped his hands letting crumbs fall off his sports jacket and thick dark worn jeans.

"So, done any rounds?" He asked wiping hands over his mouth on any stray crumbs.

"No, just relaxing for the day. Tomorrow for sure, still stiff." Helena excused kicking her legs against the building.

Trevor cleared his throat playing with the strings of his jacket. "So, I tried my best on.." He nodded to her. "y'know, taking care of others."

Helena groaned mid chewing leaning her head back. "Don't tell me you've been trying my methods." She side glanced him with a suspicious look. "You're not exactly the, what's the word? Fastest man around, Trev."

He chuckled shoving her shoulder, "C'mon! I ain't that bad! I wasn't doing that, parkour stuff. I tried to get some dough."

A stern look came to her, she shook her head now looked aggravated. "Trevor, I told you before not to. Only I do it for you guys."

"Well, after being tackled by a large fat cop almost flattened into the ground. I might take the word on it. Helena chuckled at that softly.

"Sharp turns and put speed into your feet not all of your legs." She instructed, then pointed a finger at him. "Still, shouldn't have done it.

Trevor rolled his eyes and turned to her sitting cross legged. "But someone had to! You know I always say I'll take over when anything happens to you!"

"And this 'anything' is what, Trevor?" Helena gave turning to him. "Fall to my death?"

"No."

"Caught by police?"

"No, it-"

"Then what? What's the worst that can happen?"

"You leaving us!" Trevor barked silencing her.

Helena frowned with low confused brows. "..Leave? What do you mean leave, I'll never leave."

Trevor gave a glare, "Well you did! Two days you were gone, rumors were spreading the police finally caught you, but was sure it wasn't true. I had faith you can outrun them any day. When that Holmes bloke came around asking about you, 'assuring' us you were in safe and all. But that could've met anything! Then he has the _gall_ to ask what your 'motives' were! The great, Sherlock Holmes as everyone calls him. He's going to hand you to the coppers, I just know it."

"No he won't!" She yelled back. "We made a deal; I don't steal from him or his doctor -who by the way made sure I recovered properly- and he doesn't report me to the authorities."

Almost with disbelief, Trevor scoffed. "You've become domesticated."

Helena stared at him for a good long while with a thin frown. With silence, she rolled her plastic bag up and shoved it into Trevor's hands. Getting to her feet she walked calmly to the later and started moving onto it to slide down. Trevor watched her and quickly got to his feet.

"Finish the rest, enjoy. Don't want my domesticate to be contagious." She spat lowly and slid down the ladder.

"H-Hawkeye!" He called rushing to the ladder only to see her already merging out with the crowd. Trevor groaned and looked down at the bag, with anger he rose it up high to chuck it off. Hesitating, and lowering it slowly, he opens the back and gently eats the rest. She must have gone through some trouble to getting it. And wasting food was something he couldn't afford to do.

* * *

"Damn Trevor.." **Clink!** "'Domesticated', my arse!" **Clink! Clink! **There were other ways to vent out her anger, this one one of them. Helena chucked another stone at the smoke pipes across the building. Each hit with more force than the one before.

She released a sigh and shook her head hugging her knees looking down with a grimace of sadness. "I'm a tramp." She states softly to herself. "How can I ever become domesticated? I didn't even like being there." Helena threw her hood over her head with a sigh.

"..Been in that flat for at least three days." Echoed out a low voice down below.

"Could've gone on holiday." Excused a softer voice.

"..D'you leave your windows open when you go on holiday?" Asked the low voice.

Helena looked up, she knew those voices. She got to her feet and climbed over to the fire escape and looked down. "Well, we cross paths again." She called down leaning on the metal railing on the side. "What are you cats doing on this side of town?"

"Hawkeye, perfect timing." Sherlock called stepping back ready to jump for the ladder.

"Thank God, you're alright." John sighed as Sherlock jumped at the ladder with ease of his height, yanking it down. He climbed up only to have the ladder yank back up before John could follow.

"Of course I'm alright. Just stopped around here to see what I can snag before taking a break." She assured looking to Sherlock who stood above her. "How's the case?"

"Gleaming, we're just checking this flat, no one's been there in three days. Seen anyone inside?"

Hawkeye shrugged, "I've gotten here myself a few minutes ago. I assumed the person who lives here went out, but it's dangerous to leave your window open around this area."

Sherlock grinned, "Exactly what I thought. Let's check inside." He gave as the two headed to the back of the flat to climb through the window.

"Sherlock!" John called, not getting a chance to talk to her himself. "Hawkeye!" With an exasperated sigh, the doctor runs out to the front of the building

Helena climbs through with his of her small figure and steps away for Sherlock to get in. He gets through but the clink of a vase near by tips over, he cries out in muffled alarm catching it. She looked back seeing his near mistake but kneels down, feeling the wet carpet. There was water in there, but not enough to cause a wet spot such as this.

"Someone else has been here." Sherlock calls out the window to John, putting the vase back on the table and looked around. "Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase, just like I did."

Helena gets to her feet and gently pokes around as Sherlock investigates the dryer checking the smell before tossing it back in. He feels for a tea towel hanging near by, the sound of a ringing indicated John was out front now.

"D'you think maybe you could let me in this time?" He called pressing the doorbell again.

Sherlock moves onward as Helena opens the fridge, Sherlock reaches in taking the milk carton taking the lid off, he looks inside and gives a small sniff.

"Could you both _not _keep doing this to me?" John calls through the letterbox.

"Almost bad." he tells her, she nods as he puts the lid back on and the milk back in the fridge shutting the door. "We're not the first." He states and straightens up.

"What!?" Yells John who was holding the letter box to hear better or to have him hear them better.

"Somebody's been in here before us!" Helena barks out to John, as they heard him clearly but not him hearing them.

"_What_ are you saying?" She couldn't tell if that question was that he didn't hear or understand. Maybe both.

Sherlock took out his magnifier looking at scuff in the rug that showed the intruder where they stood. "Size eight feet." Helena moved the beads in the doorway for him as he passed through. "Small, but… athletic." He moved, she put her feet beside it to compare, near the same size but only because she wore size eight males when she was a size nine in a half female. Sherlock took note and looked up at a photo in a frame with hand print on it.

Outside John walked around, sighing. "I'm wasting my breath." He gave and tried the doorbell again.

The two moved, as he took the frame examining it. "Small, strong hands."

Helena looked up as he put it back down. "The man who climbs the walls, you think?"

"Our acrobat." He closed the magnifier and slid it back into his pocket. He looks around with a frown though. "But why didn't he close the window when he left..?"

The crook then shot around. "Sherlock, one never leaves a window open when invading a home..." She stated slowly, eyes shooting around.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at this realization. "Oh, stupid. _Stupid._ Obvious… He's still here." He spotted a free-standing folding screen, someone could hide behind there. Helena moved to the kitchen looking into the bedroom in case he was hiding there too.

She peeked into the room eyes scanning any indication he was here. Without any warning something was kicked into her back throwing her to the floor. She heard thuds of steps fading to Sherlock in the other room, the intruder! "Shit!" She cused giving a cough as the wind was knocked out of her and for sure a huge bruise would appear later on her back. She heard the groans and struggling thuds of the two in the other room.

"John! Helena!" He cried sounding like his was struggling to speak. "Helena!"

Outside, John was none the wiser to the attack as he shook his head in frustration. "No, I'm Sherlock Holmes and I always work with the 'right' people because no-one else can compete with my MASSIVE INTELLECT!" He shouted through the letterbox angrily.

She finally got to her feet wincing at her back and stumbled into the kitchen seeing Sherlock being strangled by the intruder. "Like to kick, huh?" She rushed over and swung her leg right into the man's neck knocking him off of Sherlock.

The detective was on the floor free but just about lost consciousness. The attacked stood seeing Helena being a struggle as she held her fists up ready to fight back. Her eyes shot to Sherlock's limp form for a split second as he need to get the cloth off from around his neck. Sherlock suddenly started gasping and coughing getting Helena's attention, the assailant used the advantage to escape through the window.

"Damnit.." She muttered but knelt to the gasping detective and removed the cloth off his neck. "Sherlock- Sherlock breath!"

He shoots up coughing heavily, she moves as he gets to his hands and knees breathing as much as he good for his lungs and brain. Helena sighed glad she didn't have to do mouth-to-mouth. "T-Thanks.." He coughs out getting to his knees sitting up and digging through his pocket.

"No trouble.." She winces and sees a black origami that was shoved into his pocket. Curious, Helena checked her own pockets, pulling out a identical flower. The two shared a glance, panting though Sherlock breathed less even.

Sherlock got to his feet stumbling a bit, Helena quickly stood helping him balance though careful of her back. "Let's John, that acrobat is long gone now." She tells. He nods in agreement and they leave to meet with him.

John checked his watch one last time before thinking of taking his leave. The door then opened and he gives an 'oh' as the two finally emerge from the building. Sherlock gave his statement in a croaky tone and with a bit of struggle.

"The, uh, milk's gone off and the washing's starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago." He trailed off giving a small clear to his throat.

John watched as Helena shimmied back the tall man and leaned on the wall sighing. "Somebody?" He questioned.

Sherlock nodded, "Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her."

Helena looked down and noticed a letter, she bent down picking it up as Sherlock still caught his breath. "But how, exactly?" John asks.

She stands showing Sherlock the letter, he takes it reading the back of it. 'Soo lin please ring me tell me you're okay Andy' He unfolds it reading the front of it finding a print at the bottom right corner; National Antiquities Museum. Sherlock nods to the envelope, "Maybe we'll start with this."

He walks out, Helena shut the door and walks with them. John looks over, "You've gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?"

Sherlock shakes it off giving a hard cough, "I'm fine." Helena shook her head at him with a grin, still not telling John anything.

* * *

From an alleyway, Trevor saw his friend go walking with that Holmes bloke and a short blond man. He glared the detective as he looked down to speak with her then she looked to John talking to him. The tall man called for a cab, Trevor peeked out more expecting her to leave at that point. But instead, she climbed in with the two as the taxi drove off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the love guys! This chapter I really am glad I got in before this week started. I got morning hours at work this week, and will be spending my free time helping my dad with him recovering from surgery and sleeping as I am a insomniac and such. So, until my hours shift about, the next chapter will slowly be built. I hope this one wasn't rushed and you guys enjoy! Remember to leave a review!**

* * *

"You really think that?" Asked Lestrade as looked through papers spread over his desk. He looked stressed rubbing his forehead glancing up at the man on the other side of the room.

It has to be him. You said so yourself you've been chasing him for years and never can figure out where or how he escapes." Dimmock tried to reason leaning on the desk with his hands.

Lestrade eyed him, "Did Sherlock actually say so himself it was him?"

Dimmock nodded in a lie. "He said it was someone who can climb walls. Who else can do it?"

Greg leaned back and sighed, "If Sherlock thinks so, then fine. You can find him around the roof of buildings. But you'll never catch him."

"I will catch him." Dimmock gave with confidence and left the room to start the search.

Lestrade sighed and turned in his chair running a hand down his face. He looked out the evening sky, chewing his lip thinking of the information Dimmock had given. Greg wasn't on this case, but still wanted to know with Sherlock involved. John of course by Sherlock's side, but Dimmock told a woman was with him too. She supported Sherlock's opinion of it being murder, but didn't see her at the second crime scene. The way he described her, it wasn't Molly, and the name was Helena. Lestrade didn't know the person, maybe a new colleague, who knows.

He pulled his phone out opening his message box reading a text he got from Sherlock about a week ago; 'Hawkeye -SH'. It was the night of the media, and Lestrade knowing how Sherlock can be, had to have meant that damned man he can never catch.

"Hawkeye.." He muttered rubbed his upper lip before shaking his head. Lestrade turned to his desk to continue his stress filled work.

* * *

Outside on the steps of the museum, Helena watched the pigeons stagger about for droppings of foods and scraps of sorts. She chuckled, feeling she could relate to the creatures. Her hood sat over her head watching as the sun was setting. Helena instead of splitting paths from the men, she followed the here. John said when they come back out he had something to say to her, but Sherlock insisted they hurry inside before he could explain what.

Back of her mind said she could be out there robbing for money and getting cash, but her bod disobeyed and stayed put on the steps. Sighing she started down at the cement and her boots letting her mind faze out to daydream.

"Excuse me," A voice came, Helena looked up seeing a man. "Do you need help?"

The girl only waved him off with a smile. "Oh no, waiting for someone inside." She pointed her thumb to the building behind her.

The man nodded and walked off. Helena watched him as he was about to cross the street, until two officers came over to him. Oh, was he in trouble? They had a piece of paper that looked like a photo, pointing at it. The man looked at it and nodded, her heart skipped when he pointed at her. Wait, _her_!? The officers followed his gaze, Helena saw the photo; it was of her on Shard Tower from a week ago.

Hawkeye jumped to her feet seeing the men dart at her, she instantly ran into the building, maybe she can lose them there. The crook can hear the officers call her to stop and all that. She refuses, question was how did they get a photo of her? Or even start searching for her? Hawkeye hasn't done any crimes in over a week or so, she should be in the clear. Something didn't add up.

Running up the stairs dodging people, she ran to the side jumping onto the railing and pulled herself up onto the second floor. She snickered and caught sight of Sherlock and John, she was close. Before she could call them, a heavy weight tackled her down to the tile floor holding her down. "OWW! Get off me!" She demanded struggling under the hold of the large security man.

Sherlock and John turned seeing Helena being held down by the man as they were making their leave. Seeing the struggle and hearing her yell, they knew it was her and ran over. Two officers finally caught up as they held her down as well near crushing her.

"H-Hey! That's our friend!" John barked trying to get them off him.

One of the officer looked up showing the photo. "You're friends with Hawkeye, the pickpocket crook and man who is accused of the two murders of Edward Van Coon and Brian Lukis?"

"What!? You think-"

"I'd like to point out, that this 'man' is a woman." Sherlock corrected as they held her up hands behind her back. He reached over tossing the head off her head as she flung her face to the side moving hair from her sight. "Second, she is not the one who committed those murders."

"I don't murder, I just rob jerks of valuable trinkets! What would I gain from murdering!?" Helena yelled still struggling in the large man's grip.

The other officer took out a pair of handcuffs, while the first one denied these claims. "Detective Inspector ordered we arrest the criminal named Hawkeye who is a suspect in these crimes. He said Sherlock Holmes claims the murder to be someone who can scale and enter buildings and leave without a trace. So far, the public has seen you do it with video proof on the web."

All eyes shot to the tall man. "Sherlock.." John muttered, "Jesus!" He spat shaking his head.

Sherlock's brows knotted, he did say that yes. Sure his claims were close to Helena's work but… He never meant it to target her. He looked between John and the officer. "Impossible, she was with us during the first murder."

"Was she with you during this whole case?" He asked as his partner had a hard time getting the cuffs on her wrists with her resistance.

The consulting detective paused in the defense, tracing back at times she wasn't with them. "No, she wasn't… Hel-Hawkeye was not with us morning of the second murder. We only just ran into her an hour ago in Chinatown."

"What was she doing there?"

John answered this time. "We were looking for someone involved in the case, but they weren't home. The back window was open she was there."

"Uh-huh, no doubt ready to commit a third." He turned as Hawkeye got free of the grip and grabbed her in time from getting away. "I think we can take her to Dimmock for questing."

Sherlock looked to Helena who stared- no glared him. She struggled harder no doubt to want to tackle the tall man. "You sold me out! That's why you wanted me around this case and why you found me! To get my caught!"

"No, I-" Sherlock tried to reason.

"Don't even talk to me! I never should've trusted you!" She screamed and felt the cuffs click onto her wrists. Helena was turned roughly being dragged away from the shocked men. "I'll never trust anyone ever again! Sherlock Holmes lied to me! I never want to see your face again!"

Watching her being taken away, and hearing her echoes of screaming protests caught a lot of people's attention. John sighed heavily and glared his flatmate. "We should've warned her. If we had, she wouldn't-"

"Our job here is done." He stated blinked a few times and walking slowly to the exit. John followed, "She'll be taken in for questioning, they don't have full proof she was the one who did it."

"But Dimmock thinks so." John argued as they trotted gently down the stairs.

"Since when has he been right?" Sherlock retorted.

At the front, police lights could be seen as two cars parked outside the dark roadway. The two saw Dimmock exit a car and grin seeing Helena, but frowned when seeing it was a woman. He talked to the officer, who nodded in confirming it was Hawkeye. He nodded and ordered him to shove her in the back. At first she struggled about getting shoved in, but soon was forced inside. Her eyes looked up seeing the two men she assumed she could trust, staring straight at Sherlock. Before driving off, Helena's breathing got heavier as she started hyperventilating in the back of the car and hung her head lowly.

* * *

Breathing as thickly as she ever had, arms still cuffed behind her back and sitting in a small white soundproof room. Her head rested back against the chair with closed eyes. She tried to imagine herself somewhere else, hands being cuffed didn't help causing her hands to shake. Helena tried to think of the sights of London, and picture herself perched on top of a high building with the wind blowing and sounds of the life ringing her ears.

Outside the room, Dimmock watched her with folded arms. He shook his head, not expecting Hawkeye to be a female. But still, he caught her; a killer and robber. Lestrade thought he couldn't do it, he grinned at his triumph.

Deciding she waited enough, Dimmocked moved to the door entering it quietly. "Enjoying yourself?" He asks hands in his pocket.

Taking a deep breath, Helena paused. He rose a brow as she didn't respond, but her answer came when she kicked the table roughly knocking it over on it's side. A loud clanking and thunking echoed out in the room. Her head came down and opened eyes met his. Still she didn't speak, eyes bore into his with a death glare.

"Maybe more time is needed? We can keep you here until you start speaking, all night and into morning." He told acting as if he wasn't affected by the random act.

"Let. Me. Go." She demanded lowly and leaned forward letting her hair fall over her shoulders.

"You're a suspect, and have a past of committed pickpocketing and resisting arrest from police." He informed.

"You don't understand." Helena stood taking a step forward. "How could I have murdered Van Coon when I was too ill to even walk?"

"Ill of what?"

"Tetanus." Her breathing started to become uneven again. "If you check t-the hospital I-I was checked in they'll say.. t-the same thing."

"I'll consider it." Dimmock earning an eye roll from her as she started pacing in a slow circle of the chair. Watching her like a lion in a catch, that's what she was like currently. He removed his hands from his pockets and folded his arms with a curious look. "Why is Lestrade so obsessed with arresting you."

"Got me, I just do it for the feeling." Dimmock frowned, Helena walked over getting close in his face. "Don't you have something you love, like this job? The tense feeling of catching a criminal with the possibility of losing your life or endangering others? Killers and murderers on the loose, and knowing you live with them in the same city, just waiting to strike? Isn't that why you joined the force?" He stepped back a bit at her intense low words.

"..I climb, and jump, and run, and escape because I love being free of the world. The beautiful sights I can see! I see things that no one else can; in my mind is the entire map of London and I can route out escapes and short cuts around the city within seconds before you even blink. I already know four escape routes in this damned cage." Helena stepped back. "That's why I do it."

Silent, he blinked not expecting such an answer. He turned and walked towards the door, glancing once more as he found her still glaring her. Dimmock opened the door and left her alone in the room, a soft click of the lock echoed. Helena stared and looked to the mirror she knew was a two way for him to see her. She sat back onto the chair leaning forward, moving her wrists around. Clinking could he heard, slamming the chain of the cuffs on the back of the chair soon- **clank! **Now with a broken chain, Helena brought her arms forward sighing, at least that feeling was gone but she was still locked in. Her eyes locked onto the glass, she gripped the chair tightly and with all her might chucked it at the mirror causing a huge crack in it but splitting the chair apart from the force of the throw.

* * *

It had been 24 hours since they last saw Helena. John but all concerned, with cleithrophobia who knows how she was doing locked up at New Scotland Yard. Sherlock, concern wasn't part of him, but John knew he was affected by her words. With her as a suspect, it made him more determined to prove her innocence. At least that's what John saw.

Raz found the two after Helena's arrest at the museum and lead them to the South Bank State Park. The place was covered in graffiti with skateboarding and biking teens doing little to big stunts. Raz showed the yellow spray paint used on the wall forming Chinese symbols. Raz confirmed to Sherlock that the paint was the exact same, he and John went in search for more evidence of the paint.

They both split up to find anything quicker. Sherlock searched along a railway finding an abandoned paint can. He squatting down picking it up, torch pointed at the nozzle as he ran a thumb over the yellow paint on it. Giving a quick sniff, he looked up and around; he was getting close.

John searched through an underpass with lower luck on anything. He saw nothing but wall covered posters, none of the graffiti matching the color. Sherlock passed by a wall also covered in posters, but he stops as one grabs his attention. He quickly reads the corner of it and rips it off taking it with him as he continues. John moved to the railways shining his torch on the ground below him. He spots some yellow specks that grow to splashes, finding a wall he flashes the light on it. Mouth opens in surprised as he steps back for a better look, John had found the entire wall covered in yellow Chinese symbols.

A lead, finally something! John called Sherlock but he never answered so he ran off to find him. The consulting detective was found looking at a parking freight container. "Answer your phone! I've been calling you!" He calls getting Sherlock's attention. "I've found it." Sherlock follows as he leads him back to the wall.

But low and behold, once they get there, the wall is covered all black. As if nothing was there at all. "It's been painted over!" John goes over staring in disbelief as Sherlock shines his light around the area. "I don't understand. It-it was here…" He steps back shaking his head. "..ten minutes ago. I _saw_ it. A whole load of graffiti!"

"Somebody doesn't want me to see it." Sherlock determined and rushed to John grabbing the sides of his head.

John frowned at him with knotted brows. "Hey, Sherlock! What are you doing?"

"Shh, John, concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes." His hands lower gripping his forearms.

"No, what? Why? Why?" Next thing he knows, Sherlock starts to slowly spinning him on the spot. "What are you doing!?"

"I need you to maximise your visual memory. Try and picture what you saw. Can you picture it?" Sherlock explains roughly.

"Yeah."

"Can you remember it?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Can you remember the pattern?"

"Yes!" John exasperates feeling slightly dizzy.

"How _much_ can you remember it?"

"Well, don't worry-"

The two still span as Sherlock looked at him with thick words. "Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate. It all depends on her!"

John blinked but answered, "Yeah, well, don't worry- I remember all of it."

Sherlock gave him a skeptical look. "Really?"

"Yeah, well at least I _would_..." John got out of his grip, "..if I can get to my pockets!" And dug for his phone in his coat pocket. "I took a photograph."

Sherlock breaths a bit calming down as John gets the photo on his phone. He shows the picture seeing the symbols at last. Giving Sherlock the phone, John sighs turning away for a moment as he eyes the detective. He doesn't question the sudden outburst about 'her'.

Without any sleep, next morning rolled in for Sherlock and John. Sherlock was wide awake staring at the photos taped to the wall above the mantel. Now the one of the library and the wall joined the painting. John sat half asleep at the dining table head in hand looking dreadfully dead tired. Sherlock had many questions that John was too tired to even respond to. Denied sleep the, Sherlock took a few of the photos and ran off with John straggling behind. He wondered if Helena got as much sleep as they did.

* * *

"Two men who travelled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in the Hangzhou numerals." Sherlock explained deeply for Andy to understand.

"Soo Lin Yao's in danger and a friend of ours is labeled as a suspect for those murders." John added. "Now, that cipher- it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well."

Andy nodded, "Look, I've tried everywhere; um, friends, colleagues. I-I don't know where she's gone." He stammered worried for her as Sherlock turned his head with a sigh, he spotted something. "I mean, she could be a thousand miles away."

Sherlock moved to the pots displayed in the class case beside them. John noticed his gaze towards something else. "What are you looking at?"

He points to the case walking towards it. "Tell me more about those teapots."

John and Andy approach as he explains, "Th-the pots were her obsession. Um, they need urgent work. If-if they dry out, then the clay will start t crumble. Apparently you just have to keep making tea in them."

Bending down, Sherlock looked more closely at the shelf. "Yesterday, only one of those pots were shining." He pauses, eyes shooting to the other pot. "Now there are two."

That night, the museum had a small intruder. No one threatening or such, their main focus was the pots as delicate small hands took one of the non-shined pots and to the back. Soo Lin Yao was there, making tea in the pots the same way she always had. She poured the pot and gently rose it up stirring the contents inside. Highly focused on her work, she didn't notice a tall pale figure stand beside her.

"Fancy a biscuit with that?" She gasped turning accidently dropping the pot, but thankfully Sherlock caught it. He looked up to her, "Centuries old. Don't wanna break that." He straightens up handing the ancient object back to her and flicked the switch on the desk. The light brightened their faces as he half smiles at her, finally found her. "Hello."

* * *

Twenty-four hours had passed since Helena was locked at Scotland Yard for her suspected crimes of murder. Dimmock had her checked out, but she became less and less responsive as time went on. She was offered food but threw it against the mirror causing the mess the glass. Table was kicked about a leg broken, the chair was just bits of wood by now scattered in the room.

Lestrade hadn't been given a chance to see the infamous criminal he had been chasing as he was mostly out on another case or in his office with paperwork. Dimmock hadn't heard from Sherlock, wondering if he was done with this case or out to prove him wrong. He soon found out when a call of a murder happened at the National Antiques Museum, Sherlock and John were soon at Scotland Yard to explain it to him.

Although, said D.I. was attempting to ignore them, which he thought was working well. John and Sherlock were currently confronting him on this. "How many murders is it gonna take before you start believing that this maniac's out there?" John questioned.

After checking for a fax, Dimmock walked passed between the two without a glance to a desk. John perseus without a second thought. "A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him."

"Until we get any word out on the suspect, I won't be finding anyone." He tells still not looking to them.

Sherlock cuts in front of John who just shakes his head stepping away, he was still guilt ridden of her death. "Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers-" He leaned in thickening his voice. "A gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London _right_ under your nose. Helena has no connection to them."

Dimmock turns looked up, "Can you prove that?" Sherlock straightened accepting that challenge.

The homeless lonely girl sat in the corner; hood over her head arms wrapped around her with knees huddles under her. The small figure shook with her head bobbing slowly almost looking to be falling asleep or breathing deeply.

The door clicked, and creaked open. She didn't look up, not worth seeing the smug look on Dimmock's face. If anymore food was offer she'll fling the food right at him. Not expecting a different voice, Helena heard the mutter of, "God, Helena..."

Her head slowly rose up seeing scuffed shoes and jeans walk to her in a stiff motion. The male knelt down as he lifted the hood a bit to see if she was alright. Helena then knew the man see concerned eyes meet her's.

"Dr. Watson." She whispered, more like whimper to him.

"Yeah, its John." He gave with a friendly smile, her eyes darted to the door. "Don't worry, its just you and me. No one else." He assured reaching over gently to rub her arm.

"What are you doing here?" Helena asks still eyeing the door expecting him to charge in at any moment.

"Well, shortly we have proof of your innocence." Her eyes lit up at that. She was to be free once again? John put another hand on her other arm looking at her. "Now Helena, Sherlock will-"

Her face suddenly turned into a deep scowl. "Keep that bastard _away_ from me!" She cried backing into the corner as much as she could.

"Helena, please. He needs to prove this to Dimmock." John tried to reason gently holding her arms in place. "Sherlock never meant this, he just got too focused I guess.." He sighed and let her arms go letting his arm rest on his knee. "After you were arrested, Sherlock was more determined than anything to prove you didn't do it. He really did want you involved with the case, because- to me, I think he found an interest in you."

Her brows knotted, "..Interest?" Helena didn't understand by that.

"You think like him, your mind works like his. It must be rare for him to meet someone with that same thought process. He always goes on how the world is full of idiots and we all have boring empty minds. You're not one of them." John explained licking his lips before continuing. "I've never seen him so high strung on a case until you were involved. I told him he should've warned you for your safety, but he said you could handle yourself."

Helena lifted her head, raising a hand to move her head a bit higher of her head. "..He said that?"

"Yea, he said once that finding evidence was depending 'her'. I knew that 'her' was you." John gave a crooked smile. "He's not… all that bad." He strained earning a small huff of soft laughter from Helena.

John reached out feeling her arm, she still shook like a leaf. The door suddenly opened in a rush making the two jump as Sherlock and Dimmock entered. They paused as John got to hs feet moving for them to go to her.

Sherlock finally spotted her in the corner when John moved. She raised her hand to remove her hood, her eyes were puffy red and stains were down her face; tear stains. She was crying, and looked to be for a long time. Dehydrated and hungry, but by the sight of the mess at the glass she refused any nourishment. He swallowed approaching her and crouching down to her slowly. Helena retracted a bit and looked down to avoid his gaze.

"Helena, we need to just-"

"Do you remember what I said to you?" She whispered coldly.

Sherlock nods, "Yes, but-"

"The only reason I am letting you this remotely close to me, is because John told me you have proof to get me out of this hell hole." She stated with a crack in her voice.

The acclaimed sociopath sighed before putting a hand on her shoulder hesitantly. Helena flinches at the touch and looked up meeting his gaze, she saw something in those electric striking eyes of his. But he could be faking it, like how she's seen his acting before. She looked away refusing to accept that of him as he gently gripped. "I'm.. sorry." He said softly, earning her eyes to find his. "I'm sorry for putting you through this. I never intended this to happen, I want you to understand this. I know you know this, your mind isn't as dimwitted as _someone's _here." Sherlock gave glancing to Dimmock earning a scoff from Helena. He turned back with raised brows.

"..A-alright.. What do I do?" She gave feeling her shoulders become less tense with his hand still there.

Sherlock half grinned, "Just need to see your feet."

Helena frowned, "Excuse me..?" Her brow raised as Sherlock stood letting her shoulder go as Dimmock approached. "My feet?" Her eyes met John who nodded assuringly.

Sighing, her shaking hands reached for her boots removing them. Sherlock bent down again as Dimmock watched him extend her legs out to show the soles of her feet. "Notice there is no tattoo on her?" He points out as Helena tried to ignore the heat in her face as Sherlock was carefully touching her legs.

Dimmock cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish. More like stupid, Helena would think. "Okay, this is proof enough."

"That and she was locked up here like a caged animal when Soo Lin was killed." Sherlock spat giving him a glare.

The Inspector sighed, admitting defeat. "..What do you want?" he asks as Helena slips her boots back on.

"Well first for her to be set free before she suffers another panic attack and every book from Lukis' apartment and Van Coon's."

"Their books?" He questioned. Sherlocked nodded but Dimmock bit his lip. "She's still a criminal to all those past agendas."

"Then I'll pay for her bail, crimes, any of the sort. I don't care." Sherlock bit back.

Heavy breathing echoed, eyes shot to Helena who clutched her chest indeed having another attack from her fear. John instantly went over putting a hand on her shoulder. "Helena? Helena- breath!"

Sherlocked acted quick moving closer to pick her up into his arms as she shook whimpering. "Move!" He barked at Dimmock who jumped from the man who carried the hyperventilating out of the room.

John followed after, not expecting that nor seen Sherlock move so fast. Hell, he's never even seen him carry anyone before. He rushed after the two exiting the building. Sherlock goes to a near by bench by the crossways and sets her down gently.

"Helena, open your eyes, look. We're outside now," He fiddled with the cuffs taking a key he swiped from Dimmock's desk before taking the damned metal locks off her. Sherlock tosses them aside as Helena takes a deep breath hearing the sounds of cars and people chatting. Her eyes open looking around seeing the lights of London and cars going by, she sighed as she felt herself calm down.

"You alright?" John asked coming to her other side as Sherlock stood, hands in his pockets.

Helena nodded breathing softer, "..Thank you so much." She mumbled looking between them. Moving to stand on her feet, she stumbled into Sherlock who held her upright awkwardly not expecting that. "Sorry.."

"We need to get back to Baker Street. When was the last time you ate?" John asked as Sherlock let her stand on her own, but she held her hand tightly on his coat sleeve in case she lost balance.

Helena shook her head, "..Back in Chinatown."

The doctor sighed at this, "And slept?"

She didn't answer to that one, which confirmed John to bring her back to their flat. John helped her to a cab Sherlock called down and rode back to Baker Street. It was silent as Helena across the men to give her space after being locked in a room for 24 hours. John watched her now and again while Sherlock constantly kept an eye on her. Halfway through, she laid down on the seat and curled up closing her eyes.

"Glad that's over." John muttered with a sigh, he looked to Sherlock who stared at Helena. Thinking back he approached with a subject. "Sherlock?"

"Hm?" He hummed.

"..Now we got Helena, Soo Lin is.." He clears his throat. "So-"

"She won't stay long." He stated. John looked to Helena then to Sherlock. "Her trust is still thin to us-"

"To you." John corrected, Sherlock met his gaze. "I told her you never meant for that to happen. I think she understands."

"Understand what?" Sherlock questioned.

"How much you focused on getting her out of there." Sherlock frowned at his words and looked back out the window.

Sherlock hadn't noticed that but denied it. It was for the case, not Helena. She was just helpful in it and didn't want any false claims on the murderer. If this was with Lestrade that whole incident wouldn't have happened or would've gone smoother at best.

* * *

Once they arrived at Baker Street, Sherlock went ahead to the flat while John woke Helena up, paid the cab, and helped her up the stairs. She instantly took over the couch, John removed his coat and took his chair. Sherlock took his time removing his effects of the gloves first.

"Not just a criminal organisation; it's a cult." He says moving the door to hang his coat and scarf. "Her brother was corrupted by one of its leaders."

"Soo Lin said the name." John said looking over.

"Yes, Shan. General Shan." Sherlock glanced to Helena who seemed to have drifted back to sleep.

"We're still no closer to finding them."

"Wrong." Sherlock gives turning to him shoving his hands in his pockets. "We've got almost all we need to know." John doesn't speak, giving Sherlock a narrowed look before explaining. "Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need _her _expertise?"

"She worked at the museum." John states.

"Exactly."

John then caught on. "An expert in antiquities. Mmm, of course. I see." He leans forward folding his hands.

"Valuable antiquities, John. Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. Chinas home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao's revolution." Sherlock concluded.

"And the Black Lotus is selling them."

"Online.." The boys turn to Helena on the couch who looked up at them, now awake. "It's too risky to sell them in shops or on the street. If they did it online... they'd look like a normal auction site."

Sherlock tilts his head at her, then rushes to the dining table opening his laptop to so a search. John got up and walked over to Helena who sat up rubbing her eyes. "Feeling better?"

She nodded giving a yawn, he went to the kitchen to get her something as she still hadn't eaten. Helena got up and moved to look over Sherlock's shoulder to see the laptop screen. He was on Crispians' website and started surfing for recent actions. She pointed at the screen, "Click that." She told, he did so as the page loaded to a list of Asian works of art.

"Check for the dates…" Sherlock muttered to himself as he scrolled down, then stopped. On the screen were two Chinese Ming vases. "Here, John." He called, John rushed over to see before he could find anything. "Arrived from China four days ago."

Helena leaned in a bit reading the information. "Two undiscovered treasures from the East… Source is anonymous.."

"Vender doesn't give his name." Sherlock grinned.

"One in Lukis' suitcase and one in Van Coon's." John figures as Sherlock moved the cursor to go to Quest Search.

"Antiquities sold at auction." He says as he types, but has 'Chinese' at the first before clicking enter. The results are listed instantly. "Look, here's another one."

John looks into a book that is no doubt Lukis' diary as Helena reads it out. "Arrived from China a month ago. It's a Chinese ceramic statue sold at- bloody hell. Sold for four hundred thousand."

"Ah, look;" The two look as John points to another on the screen that matches what he read in the book. "A month before that- a Chinese painting, half a million."

Maybe Helena should've gotten this job, she jokes to herself. "All of them from an anonymous source." Sherlock states looking up. "They're stealing them back in China and one by one they're feeding them into Britain."

Looking back into the book, John then looks at the print out of Van Coon's calendar. "And every single auction coincides with Lukis or Van Coon to China."

"If they were doing this, what could've caused things to go to this?" Helena asked leaning on the table.

Sherlock looks to her. "What if one of them got greedy when they were in China? What if one of them stole something?"

Helena hums at that nodding in agreement. "That's why Zhi Zhu's come." John tells.

She looks to him. "Who?"

"The Spider," John stands straight looking to her. "He's the one responsible for those murders."

"Ahhh, now I see." She nods folding her arms.

"Ooh-ooh!" Came a voice with a knock, the three turned finding Mrs. Hudson in the doorway. "Sorry. Are we collecting for charity, Sherlock."

"What?"

"A young man's outside with crates of books."

Sherlock stands and goes past Mrs. Hudson down the stairs. She smiles walking in seeing Helena. "Hello, dearie." She then frowns. "Ohh, you look so pale. Are you alright?"

John comes in before Helena can deny anything. "Actually, is there something she could eat, Mrs. Hudson? She hasn't had anything for a while."

"Oh! Of course!" She nods and rushed down the stairs.

Helena sighs and sits where Sherlock sat a moment ago. "Didn't have to do that."

"You haven't eaten in twenty-four hours. Remind of Sherlock and his habits." John gave putting the book down.

She frowned, "Habits?" Two officers come up carrying a crate of books, this goes on as the two talk.

"He doesn't eat during a case and sometimes doesn't sleep." John explained moving across the room as Sherlock came up after a second crate was brought up.

Soon the last crate was brought in, and the living room had towers of crated books all over. Helena sat by the fireplace with a tray of food and tea Mrs. Hudson brought up, the boys were on the other side of the crate wall discussing how to maneuver through these.

"So, the numbers are references." Sherlock said looking over the crates.

"To books." John nods.

Sherlock turns to him. "To specific pages and specific words on those pages."

"Right, so…" He paused. "fifteen and one; that means.."

"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read."

"So what's the message?" John asks

Sherlock answers in a snarky tone, "Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book _code_. Has to be one that they both owned." Sherlock steps back and leans down reading the two crates with 'Van Coon' and 'Lukis' labeled on them.

John takes a look around. "Okay, right. Well, this shouldn't take too long, should it?" He asks going to the nearest crate and opening it.

Sherlock goes to the one he was looking at opening it, he rounds it almost stepping on Helena in the process not seeing her hiding there. He takes book after book out dropping them right beside her. She moves a side not to get hit by a stray falling book. John took a few books out piling them onto the dining table and taking a seat.

"We found these, at the museum." Helena perks hearing Dimmock, that bastard. She peeks between the gaps of the crates seeing him hold up an evidence bag to Sherlock, then turned to show John. "Is this your writing?"

John leaned over and took the bag seeing what was inside. "Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us." Dimmocks nods, "Ta."

He looked to Sherlock too engrossed onto the books he looked over between two open crates. "Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?"

Helena popped up with a plate of her chips giving Dimmock a welcoming false grin. "Ah, kissing arse are we?"

Dimmock didn't expect her here stepping back a bit. "Some silence right now would be marvellous." Sherlock tells not looking up or surprised at Helena's cut in on the conversation.

He looks to John who shakes his head showing he wasn't needed for any assist and turned to the books. He finds Helena's glare once more, biting his lip he turns leaving in an awkward silence down the stairs. Helena moves the plate off the crate and sits back down. "Almost knocked me out with these books, jerk." She tells the long legged man beside her.

"You chose to sit on the floor that isn't meant to eat meals on." He softly retorted dropping another book by her.

Helena took one and looked through it, she silently helped the boys in finding certain words on certain pages. She places books in separate sections in case she found it's twin which was only so far three. Everytime Sherlock found two of the same he slammed them on John's desk messing up his own pile. This continued all through the night, although Helena only made it until 4:27 am before found asleep curled in a ball by Sherlocks' feet. He was careful not to step on her when he moved to other crates.

The next morning rolled by with the sun shining through the curtains of the windows. Crates were moved and books were spread about in even and uneven piles. Sherlock stood in the middle ruffling a hand through his hair and looking about with a sigh. His suit blazer off and sleeves rolled up, hands now on his hips. John's jacket was gone too and looking extremely tired, though not realizing the time until his watch went off. Even the morning bells could be heard ringing outside. Looking outside, John groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, he had a shift that morning.

John showered and dressed in fresh clothing leaving for his job, Sherlock leaned on the dining table still looking through books not willing to stop now. As the door slammed of John leaving, Sherlock looks up, now noticing he was gone. He searched around and found Helena sleeping in a curled ball still where she was the night before, his jacket blazer draped over her as a makeshift blanket.


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, I know I said I wouldn't be writing. But work is just stressing me out with ass wipes coming in harassing me and co-workers giving me a hard time with my work I had to do. I won't get into it, but thank you for the patience and here's the conclusion of the Blind Banker. Thanks to new follows and current ones.**

* * *

"Helena." Came a voice, she sighed and just stayed still ignoring it. "Helena, get up!" It came more demanding. She groaned using whatever blanketed over her pulled over her head. "Come on, move!" He demanded taking her warm comfort from her.

"Jesus, you're demanding." She yawned sitting up and rubbing the tired out of her eyes.

Sherlock danced around to get to the bookshelf she was blocking. Helena eventually stood stretching her limbs feeling the joints crack and pop. "Any progress?" She asked running fingers through her hair.

"No, just needed you out of the way." He told quickly scanning the shelf. "A book that everybody would own.." Sherlock whispered to himself, taking three books; Dictionary, Holy Bible, and a third Helena didn't see.

She takes turning to the 15th page, "Nostrils." Frowning she looks at the cover and gives Sherlock a look. "Why would anyone own 'Syphilis and Local Contagious Disorders'?" Helena laughed putting it aside.

Sherlock barely bat an eye at her chucking the other two aside. He sighed propping his elbows on the crate and ran his fingers through his messy hair ruffling it up even more. John soon entered through the kitchen seeing the two standing by the crate, almost the same as he left, though Helena was awake now.

Sherlock sees him and drops his arms. "I need to get some air. We're going out tonight."

"Actually, I've, er, got a date." John smiles.

Helena grinned, "Nice, John!" She praised.

Sherlock through frowned at this, John had a date? "What?"

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun." John explained.

"That's what I was suggesting, but three instead."

Helena turns with a questioning low brow look to Sherlock. He glanced at her as John blinked at those words. "No it wasn't… At least I hope not."

"Where are you taking her?" Sherlock asked going into his trouser pocket.

"Er, cinema."

Before Helena could ask what movie, Sherlock walks around the crates to John. "Oh, dull, boring predictable." Taking a piece of paper from said pocket, he hides a grin lowering his head before looking back him handing him the paper. "Why don't you try this?"

John took it seeing it was an advertisement for Yellow Dragon Circus with a phone number. "What is it?" Helena asked coming over to see it.

"In London for one night only." Sherlock gives as Helena reads it.

John chuckled and offered the paper back to him. "Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice." Although he looked at it again, as Sherlock didn't take it. The doctor walked back to the kitchen.

Helena looked around, then to Sherlock who sat at the dining table with a sight. "I didn't you were a Mr. Dating Expert."

Sherlock didn't answer, but looked up to her with a different subject in mind. "I still owe you."

"Hm? Owe me?" She questioned leaning against the table with folded arms.

"For getting you mistaken and arrested." He informed folding his hands under his chin.

Helena looked around and back to him. "I thought helping me out of there was owing me? Not to mention you sort of paid for my past crimes."

Sherlock shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "Let me take you out tonight."

Shocked by his words, she stood to her feet looking at him a bit is disbelief. "You take me out? On what, a date?" She laughs.

Sherlock shrugged. "Yes." That stopped her laughing.

Her brown eyes dart about as if thinking. A date, she never been on a date , Helena knew what a date was, before John vague definition of it was explained. And Sherlock didn't seem the type for these things, so she was off guard at this. Running a hand through her hair, she nodded. "Uh, alright. Sure. Why not?"

Giving a grin, "Excellent." He stood and wondered down the hall. "Feel free to freshen up." He called before shutting his bedroom door, was he searching for clothing?

Helena sighed and followed down the same hall but turned to the bathroom. She forgot the second door was to Sherlock's room, which was open with a crack. Reaching for the handle, her eyes wandered into the room finding the tall male unbuttoning his shirt back to her. Helena tried not to stare when the shirt dropped seeing his toned bare pale back. Looking so smooth, almost tempted to reach out and feel just to see for herself. Sherlock turned and she shut the door before he could catch her peeking at him. Cheeks hot and red, she locked the door and the other bathroom door setting the water up for a shower.

* * *

Evening night soon came, as John and Sarah walk up the slope to a building on their date.

"It's been years since anyone took me to a circus." Says Sarah with an excited smile.

"Right, yes!" John chuckled nervously. "Well, it's… a friend recommended it to me. He phoned up."

"Ah. What are they, a touring company or something?" She asks.

"I don't know much about it."

The two pause looking at the large red Chinese lanterns strung outside the hall. "I think they're probably from China!" Sarah jokes laughing.

"Yes, I think-I think so, yes." He laughs with here. "There's a coincidence." He tells himself quietly. They both walk up into the building, up the steps to the office to get tickets. "Hi. I have, er, two tickets reserves for tonight."

"And what's the name?" The manager asks.

John takes his wallet from his jacket, "Er, Holmes."

He rifles through the collection of reservations, and turns to him. "Actually I have four in that name." He shows John the envelope.

John frowns a bit confused. "No, I don't think so. We only booked two."

"And then I phone back and got one for myself and one for Helena." They turned finding Sherlock walk up to them with Helena tagging behind him. John looks up in disbelief at this stunt he pulled looking to her. She shrugged, looking to be dragged here as well and almost disappointed but tried to hide it. Sherlock holds his hand out to Sarah. "I'm Sherlock."

"Helen." She gives giving John an apologetic look.

Sarah glances to John and then to Sherlock shaking his hand smiling at the two. "Er, hi."

"Hello." He gives with a short smile and darts away with Helena following with a grumble.

At the steps leading up to the main room, Sherlock paused tugging Helena back. "Go ahead and map out how many routes of escape there are." She nods and goes on ahead as he waits for John to catch up. Soon John arrives with an annoyed look in his eyes.

"You couldn't let me just have one night off? Not even let Helena have a night of rest?" John harshly questioned in a hushed tone as people passed by.

"Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits." He told ignoring his questions. "The Tong send an assassin to England-"

"Dressed as a tightrope walker. Come on, Sherlock, behave! Even Helena didn't look like she wanted to be here. How did you even convince her to come?"

"I told her I owed her, so offered her a date." Sherlock explains quickly.

John sighed leaning his head back, that's why she looked that way. "God, Sherlock.."

"She needs to see how her does it and confirm it's him." Sherlock explains shortly. "We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity?" He pauses in his convincing to John. "Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all Helena needs to do is map the building, while I have a quick look round the place-"

"Fine." John cut. "You do that; I'm gonna take Sarah for a pint."

"I need your help." Sherlock told sternly.

"You have Helena to help you, she's just as smart to keep up with you. Besides, I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!"

"Like what?"

John blinks at him astonished. "You are kidding."

"What's so important?" Sherlock questioned back in the hushed town again.

"Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a date. D'you want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to.." He trailed off, hoping Sherlock would catch on.

Shaking his head, "What?" he urges.

"While I'm trying to get off with Sarah!" He barks just as Sarah rounds the corner, he turns with an awkward smile. "Hey… Ready?" Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns going ahead up the stairs to find Helena.

"Yeah!" Sarah gives excited once more as they follow the tall man.

The three joined Helena who stood with a smaller scattered crowd, her eyes darted about mapping things out in her mind. The room is dimly light as the performance is centered in the room than on the stage itself. There wasn't as many people as John had expected, showing not many tickets were favored to be made or interests in other people. Then again it wasn't advertised on the telly or paper.

John turned to Sherlock over his shoulder who glanced around back to him. "You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd." He turned to John. "Sherlock, this is…" He gave a distasteful look. "..art."

"This is not their day job." Sherlock quietly tells over his shoulder.

"No, sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus; they're a gang of international smugglers." John snaps back.

Sarah glanced to Helena who still was silent. She patting her shoulder gently, "You alright?"

Helena flinched and looked over, stepping back shrugging Sarah's hand off. "Yeah, yeah." She gives and looked to Sherlock who turned to her. "Exit one and two are on our left and right, taking the front entrance as an exit would be too risky. I determined there's a back exit behind the stage leading either straight outside or a hall then outside."

Sherlock nods, "Good. Now just the timing in investigate."

Drumming could be heard, everyone's attention turned to the circled center. John looked to Sherlock who quirks an eyebrow at him. Sarah smiles, but Helena silently sighs boredly as she shoves her hands in her jacket pocket. A woman in a Chinese headdress and silk robes appeared with traditional Chinese make up.. She looks over the small audience before raising a hand, the drummer stops at that time. A large object on the left of her is hidden under a cloth, she removes it revealing a large old looking crossbow. Chinese strings echo out for a dramatic effect to the performance, Helena tilts her head wondering how this was art. The decorated woman took a large thick arrow showing the crowd before placing it onto the weapon and pulling it back. The drumming got intense at this point, making Sarah tense with eagerness next to John. She took a feather from the top of her decorated headdress and let it flutter down into the metal bowl. Within a blink of an eye, the arrow whizzed across the room right into the wall with a large echoing WAMP!

Some people gasped at it, including Sarah and John who jumped. Helena blinked, never seeing something such as this before, it was pretty amazing! Sherlock wasn't stunted as he just watched examining how it worked. Sarah placed a hand over her heart not expecting it to go that fast laughing softly to John.

Helena inwardly was glad this wasn't a real date as she would've wandered off to nick off these people or wander the building. She resisted the urge as Sherlock stood behind her watching onward as the others did.

The audience claps as a new figure appears with a head mask of a Chinese demon like design. His body is covered in chainmail as he holds his arms to the side ready for his act. Two men dressed in black start to cover and wrap him in chains folding his arms across himself as the string music returns. They bring him to the board chaining him there, Helena frowned at this taking a deep breath. The sounds of the chains and padlocks clicking made her step back a tad.

"Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock whispers to the three who turn to him. "The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior had to escape his bonds before it fires."

Helena swallows thickly at that and turns back as the yanking of the chains causes the warrior to cry out. Drumming grows more intense as people look on, sudden cymbals crashing causes this time, both girls to jump. Sarah jumps at John covering her mouth in embarrassment, looping an arm around John's. He takes notice of this and grins to himself, thinking this date might not be too bad. Helena jumped back bumping into Sherlock, she whispers a 'sorry' as he nods to her seeing her grow tense at this scene.

The decorated woman takes out a knife as an arrow is already set, she shows the knife to the audience. Sherlock whispers in explanation again, "She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl."

Helena wanted to shush Sherlock, she felt as tense as Sarah at this. She didn't have a worry about the arrow snapping into the man's neck at all. The sounds of chains and seeing him locked up gave her thoughts on her fear. She took another step back nearly moving to get behind Sherlock who didn't seem to notice or bother. Once the bag started lowering and the man struggled, a hand was on Helena's shoulder causing her to flinch and looked over. It was only Sherlock, he nodded his head to follow her to investigate. She gladly followed.

As the performance continued, Sherlock and Helena search backstage to find anything this 'circus' carried. As clapping echoed for the next performance, Sherlock eyed something. Helena heard the announcement of the next act as he searched.

"Ladies and gentleman, from the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider."

Helena rushed to the curtains seeing a man soaring around on two red long materials. She shakes her head, and looked back. "Sherlock!" She calls in a hushed down.

He follows over peeking through above her seeing the performance with interest. "Well, well."

"Son of a bitch, that's him." Helena spat quietly watching the man. "...Not impressed." She frowns.

Doors slam, Sherlock and Helena take cover behind a rack and clothing holding their breath. The headdressed woman is the one who entered, rushing to the dressing table. Sherlock tries to pea only causing a rack to fall, Helena ducks his head down and the two hold their breath once more. She eyes the rack but walks right by and leaves the stage.

Spotting something Sherlock reaches over opening a bag filled with spray cans. He takes one labeled 'Michigan'. The bottom of the can is a yellow band showing the color of it. "Found you." He lowly sings to himself catching Helena's attention. Sherlock stands moving past the rack shaking the can, and sprays a fine line over the mirror to replicate the one at the bank.

"Just like those others." Helena mutters walking over to his side, but catches something in the reflection. Wasn't that armor standing somewhere else?

When it moves, it reveals a man is inside the armor. Sherlock and Helena stand back as he swings a weapon at the two. Helena, remember this almost like the attack at the flat days ago, gets behind the man. She swings her right leg up to give a round house kick to his head, only he turns blocking it. He shoves her away and now swings the weapon at her as she jumps back as much as she could until the curtain touched her back. Sherlock, still with the can turns the man and sprays the can in his face to blind him and shove him to the ground.

Helena goes beside up, arms up as the man jumps back to his feet. Persistent this one was, she noted. He jumps giving a kick to Sherlock, Helena shoved him back causing him to fall through the curtain and off the stage as she blocking the kick with her own leg.

Wind knocked out of him, Sherlock tries to get up, Helena steps back and falls as well though on her side groaning at the impact. The crowd gasps as the warrior jumps out, John sees his friends and instantly runs over as the two are a bit winded from the fall. With a raised knife at Helena, John tackled the man against the wall of the stage giving her time to get to her feet. It was enough, though he kicked John in the stomach who stumbled back at the force.

The performer Zhi Zhu,or Soo Lin's brother Liang, removes his mask seeing this runs off instantly. All the people ran off not wanting to get hurt or killed as the man approached to stab Sherlock as Helena was at his side to get him up. Sarah, of all people, ran at the man with one of the giant arrows and slammed it down the warriors unprotected head. He cried out in pain as Sherlock sits up, she continued to beat him until he falls to the floor. She sighs at this, not seemed shaken at all to the three's surprise. Sherlock quickly removes the man's show revealing the same tattoo and the other three victims.

Sarah gets John to his feet as Sherlock got Helena, "Come on!" Sherlock calls as they had to get out of there before others of the gang showed up. "Let's go." John lagged a bit still trying to get a breath after the kick in the gut, Sherlock was almost out of breath from the falling impact he received.

* * *

The four found themselves at Scotland Yard, much to Helena's disdain for it. Once they got out of the hall, Sarah called police while they took the leave. Though when they arrived to Dimmock's office, he in a near outright fury.

"I sent a couple of cars." He told storming into the office. "The old hall is totally deserted."

Helena wanted to kick him in the face, oh so much

Helena wanted to kick him in the face, so so badly. "You think we got these bruises from fighting each other? Sarah here is a witness to the attack!"

"Look," Sherlock cut in as they followed him. "I saw the mark at the circus- that tattoo we saw on the two bodies: the mark of the Tong."

Dimmock turns to them once they reach his desk. He eyed them as they tried to reason him, hands on hips. "Lukis and Can Coon were part of a-a smuggling operation, Now, one of them stole something when they were in China; something valuable."

"These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back."

"Get what back?"

Sherlock bit his lip and looked away angrily at that question. Helena sighed and folds her arms, knowing this was their stump. "We don't know." John answers for them.

"You don't know." Dimmock looked to Sherlock who refused to make eye contact. "Mr. Holmes," He sighs taking a seat at his chair. "I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something." Sherlock rose his head at that biting back a grin. "I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it- other than a massive bill for overtime."

* * *

The four man group return to Baker Street, Sherlock takes his coat and scarf them over one of many still opened crates. Sarah staggers behind a bit taking in the flat, Helena sighs running a hand down her face as she flops into John's chair; much comfier than Sherlock's.

They'll be back in China by tomorrow." John states taking his jacket off.

"No," Sherlock denies. "they won't leave without what they came for. We need to find their hide-out; the rendezvous." He goes around the crates to the mantel. "Somewhere in this message it must tell us." Sherlock ran his fingers over the pictured of the brick wall, mind scrambling and steaming not knowing the answer.

Sarah looked between them feeling a bit out of place. "Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it."

"No, no, you don't have to go," He looks over, "Does she?" and looks back. "You can stay." John answered while Sherlock answered, "Yes, it would be better to study if you left now." At the same time.

The two look at each other, Helena looks between the two. John gives a dark look and Sherlock just looks pointedly at her. "He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like." John insisted.

An awkward silence follows in as Sherlock turns back to the photos and Sarah looks at them nervously. Helena chewed her lip standing up to pass by Sherlock. Sarah spoke first, "Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?"

This caused Sherlock to sigh closing his eyes with a small, "Ooh, God." John and Sarah look at him hearing his sigh. Helena shakes her head and smiles to Sarah.

"Ignore him, he was the same when he first met me; worse even." She tells as John scrambled to the kitchen to find something appealing to her. They still had that food he got a few days ago, right?

Sherlock by now was at the dining table papers and more copies of the photos piles around as he searched for a way to translate the message. Helena was tempted to read her book, but Sherlock seemed annoyed enough so she got onto Sherlock's laptop and started Googling for any answers. Sarah behind the detective looking over at the papers taped to the wall.

"So this is what you do, you, John, and Helena. You solve puzzles for a living." She indicated.

Sherlock paused, "Consulting detective." He corrected and continued looking through.

"Oh." Sarah wandered over to looking over Sherlock's shoulder not really noticing the annoyance radiating off him by now. "What are these squiggles?" She asks pointing at the paper.

Sherlock looks up, resisting strongly not to bark at her for John's sake… mostly. "Their numbers." He answers, looking back down handing the photo to Helena as she searches. He noticed a grin on her face, he rolls his eyes at her. "An ancient Chinese dialect."

Sarah quickly nods, "Oh, right! Yeah, well, of course I should have known that."

While Mrs. Hudson now in the kitchen helping John mae the kitchen more 'presentable' to eat in, Helena was showing Sherlock something on the laptop. While looking away, Sarah picks up an evidence bag of the photo Soo Lin was translating. Sherlock shakes his head at the screen and turns finding Sarah with the item. He gives a short glare and turns to Helena with clenched teeth, almost telling her, 'i'm gonna snap'. Helena shakes her head looking to Sarah as she turns the laptop back around to start a new search.

"So these numbers- it's a cipher." Sarah says looking at the photo.

"Exactly." Sherlock answers tightly.

"And each pair of numbers is a word."

The two instantly look over in shock by her words. What did she say? "How did you know that?" Sherlock questions.

"Well," She puts the picture down showing the two pointing at the two words. "two words have been already translated, here."

"John." Sherlock called, "John, look at this." Sherlock stands taking the bag from Sarah. John emerges from the kitchen as Helena stands to see better as Sherlock rips it open to take the photo out. Sarah was right; 'NINE' and 'MILL' written over in black pen. Helena could kick herself, that's why Dimmock asked about handwriting when showing them the back.

John squinted at the photo. "Does that mean 'millions'?"

"Nine million quid. For what?" Sherlock questioned, then turned to Helena who jumped to her feet. He in turn went for his coat and scarf. "We need to know the end of this sentence."

"Where are you going?" John asks the two as Sherlock hands Helena the photo to put his coat on. "To the museum; to the restoration room. Do you know a way inside?" He asks Helena as it would be closed by now.

"I know two safe routes." She nods proudly.

Sherlock grimaces at this late realization. "Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"

"At-at what?" John stuttered.

"The book, John. The book- the key to cracking the cipher." He shows the photo taking it from Helena for a moment before shoving it back into her arms taking his scarf. "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must have been on her desk."

"You said she was murdered?" Helena asked, John nodded as sherlock looped his scarf and slid his gloves on. "Anything she owned in that building would be locked up somewhere there." She turns to Sherlock and the two rush out.

The two burst out of the door, Sherlock running past the tourist couple, "Taxi!" The male tourist gets his book knocked out. "Hey, du! Siehst du nicht wo du hingehst?" Helena mentally translates that to herself turning back to the couple. 'Hey, you! Why don't you look where you're going?'

Sherlock turns back picking it up and handing it back to the man. "Entschuldigen Sie, bitte." He apologies as the man takes the book back. The couple grumble in German as they continue their way down the street. Sherlock groans at missing the taxi.

"Slow down," Helena tells him with folded arms. "they won't be leaving just as you said. Besides, who else could they target?" She shrugs.

Sherlock just grunts in anger as no cabbie will stop for him. He walked down the street a bit in anger with Helena watching him, none stopping for her either. Sherlock grits his teeth and looks around, noticing a good number of tourists in the area. His mind flashes back to see that London A to Z book before many a times; Van Coon's flat, Lukis' flat, and even Molly had one carrying around with her.

Sherlock bolted into a run, Helena sees him go running in the direction of the German couple. "Please, wait!" He called. "Bitte!"

They do stop seeing Sherlock running toward them frowning in confusion. They mutter some wanderment on what he wants, but the answer is given when he snatches the book from the man. "Hey, du! Was macht du!?"

"Minute!" He barks at the two turning back to flip through the pages. Helena jogs over to him as the couple soon give up walking away, probably never planning to visit London again.

Helena hold up the photo as Sherlock flips around the book, "Page 15, entry 1.." He repeats and gets to the page. First entry is, "Deadmans Lane NW9." He reads out, looking to Helena. "Dead man. They threatening him."

"And he translated right away, trying to hide from them." Helena nodded and gave the next one on the photo. "..Thirty-seven and nine."

Sherlock turns to the page, "Fore St Ec2- FOR." He hands her a pent and she write there FOR as they started to slowly get the answer.

"Sixty, and thirty-five."

After a short bit, Sherlock gives "Jade." to her.

The two worked hard together getting the translation complete. Once they got the final word, Helena held it out and read it, "Nine Mill for jad pin dragon den black tramway."

Sherlock bites back a grin, "We got them." He turns down back up the street, Helena following after as the two barrel back into 221b and up the stairs. "John! John! We've got it!" He calls going through the kitchen, but no one was there.

Helena ran into the living room for any sign of John or Sarah, but there was none. "John! We got it translated! The London A to Z is…" She trails off as she looked to the window, eyes wide. "Sherlock…" She whispers, he comes in and sees exactly what she sees in equal horror. On the windows were spray painted, the first translation again, "Dead...Man.."

"Oh shit…" Helena ran a hand through her hair as Sherlock rushed to the bookshelf. His searched about trying to find what he was looking for, feeling his brain slow from the danger his friend was in. "Oh, Christ.." He gives under his breath.

Helena watched him, never seen Sherlock this way before. He soon found the folded paper and brought it over to the table unfolding it revealing it to be a map, he slammed his hand down it. "What's the location and fastest route possible?" Sherlock stared at her asking this.

Her mind kicks in looking over the map for about two seconds or three at most, give or take some trouble with the little words he had. Soon her fingers pointed at a location. "There, if you want to go my route, you'll have to keep up." She looked up with a warning look.

He nods with a straight serious face, Helena runs out with Sherlock following behind her. Taking on the streets, she ran across voiding cars with Sherlock close behind. Helena took a sharp turn into an alley climbing up the fire escape on the side as Sherlock ran up the stairs skipping steps to keep up. Both made it to the roof and she looked over, turning, and running over the roofs with Sherlock keeping close to her. 

* * *

"You've seen the act before." Shan grins, the large crossbow now pointed at Sarah who sat directly in front of it, tied and gagged. She sobbed praying for someone to stop this. "How dull for you. You know how it ends." She coons to Sarah.

"I'M NOT SHERLOCK HOLMES!" John yelled out frantically.

"I don't believe you."

"You should, you know." Came that damned voice, Shan turns finding Sherlock's silhouette at the end of the tunnel. She cocks the gun and points it right at him. "Sherlock Holmes isn't nothing at all like him." He jumps to the side blending with the shadows as one of Shan's thugs hurries towards the end. "How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic."

"Late?" John muttered in an answer still panting.

"I'd say opposite of those words, including egotistical." Helena mutters in the dark beside Sherlock ready for the thug who was approaching.

"That's a semi-automatic." Sherlock addresses. "If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand metres per second."

Shan still had her pistol pointed. "Well?"

"Well.." Helena jumped out giving the man a kicked to the jaw, two punches and a kick to the ribs hearing a few cracks, and then a kick to the gut sending him to the ground. She quickly ducked in the shadows, as Sherlock continued. "... the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you."

The sound of running softly echoed, Sherlock knocked a barrel over giving him more darkness and for Helena to get closer. Shan was tense as she moved the gun pointing it anywhere she heard a noise form. Sherlock appears behind Sarah working on her bonds as Helena was at John's to undo his. She suddenly heard someone cry out, looking up she saw Sherlock being strangled by the man before back in Soo Lin's flat. She gets up to his aid as John tries to get out of what Helena's loosened already.

The red material is wrapped tightly around Sherlock's neck as Liang pulls tightly to cut off all air supply. Helena charges in to help him. John sees the weight getting closer to the bowl, he tries to get close to the cross bow in attempt to have it aim elsewhere than at Sarah, Helena, or Sherlock.

By this moment, Helena pu Liang in a headlock, to only flip her off of him letting Sherlock free momentarily to try Sarah's bonds again. Helena rolls out of the way as he throws a punch her way quickly getting to her feet. Though the next thing she knows, the material is now around her neck, and being pulled tightly against her.

Things got intense as Sherlock was struggling with Sarah's bond, John was half crawling half dragging the chair and himself to the crossbow, and Helena was battling not to lose consciousness. Spots speckled her sight as she felt not air getting to her lungs, falling to her knees yanking at the material. Her head felt dizzy mouth open begging to breath with strangled breathes. Just as the weight got to the bowl, John kicked the crossbow in time for the arrow to shoot off impaling Liang letting Helena go only to fall to the ground with two thuds of Liang's body and Helena's limp one.

John finally escapes his bonds Helena got loose and he starts to untie his legs free. Sherlock stands, hearing Shan running down the end of the tunnel getting away.

Sherlock kneels down to Sarah who's shaking and sobbing escaping death. "It's all right." He whispers to her to sooth her. He removes the gag as she released a sob.

"Sherlock," He groans getting up and rushing to Helena as Sarah gets free. The two follow him with their eyes, shocked to see Helena's limp form on the ground as John checks her. "..She's not breathing."

Without a thought, Sherlock rushes over and gets the red material off from her neck and puts his ear to her mouth, she wasn't breathing is right.

"Mouth to mouth." Sherlock looks up to John. "Give her mouth to mouth, she needs air in her lungs!" He yells.

Sherlock nods, of course, he knew that. His mind gearing again to perform this, closing her nose he lowered his mouth onto her locking lips and breathed into her. He lifted taking a deep breath and pressed more air into her. By the third time, her eyes shot open and coughed hard, gasping for air. Sherlock sat her up hand on her back as she reached for her neck looking for the material.

"It's alright, you're okay." He told just as softly as he did with Sarah as she nodded coughing now and again. Sherlock helped her to her feet as she clutched onto his coat for support. Helena saw the lying corpse of Liang, not seeing Shan in sight she hoped this would be the end of the case.

"You owe me big time..." She chuckled tiredly into his coat, Sherlock sighed looking back to the tunnel exit.

The police soon arrived after a call, and Dimmock finally got the evidence to the whole case. General Shan might have escaped, but it might seem worthy that one of the henchmen Helena knocked out could spill some things as Liang was dead. John walked with Sarah a shock blanket over her, and to Helena's annoyance one on her as well. Sarah is understandable not used to this life, Helena lived on the streets avoiding death was her life. She was just suffering a massive headache from her attack as she walked with Sherlock. Dimmock came over, Sherlock paused to give him a few words as Helena paused a few steps after listening.

"We'll just slip off." He told. "No need to mention us in your report."

The man sighs, "Mr. Holmes.."

"I have high hopes for you, Inspector" Dimmock glanced up. "A glittering career."

Sherlock stepped to leave, "I go where you point me." He said to the detective causing Sherlock to pause for a brief second before continuing his leave with Helena. Not before throwing over his shoulder, "Exactly."

* * *

The next morning, the boys talked in the kitchen, Helena was offered a night to sleep but was gone by the time they had called a cab to get back to Baker Street. Sarah was dropped to her flat and John doubted he'd have another date with her. He sat at the table while Sherlock stood by pouring them tea, he gave thanks taking the mug.

"So," John was looking at the translated message Sherlock and Helena got through to. " 'Nine mill'..."

"Million." Sherlock gave pouring himself a mug.

"Million, yes; 'Nine million for jade pin. Dragon den, black Tramway."

"And instruction to all their London operatives." John hmms in understanding. "A message; what they were trying to reclaim."

John looked up to him. "What, a jade pin?"

Sherlock nodded pointing to the photo. "Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the Tramway, their London hideout."

"Hand on: a hairpin worth nine million pounds?" He questions finding that a bit over the top.

"Apparently." He gives putting a hand in his pocket raising his mug.

"..Why so much?"

Sherlock paused. "Depends who owned it." He told and sipped his tea.

Outside the flat, Helena sat on the roof across from 221b. She laid on her back by the edge watching the clouds move and form about in the sky. She raised her hand out as if reaching for them, how much she wished she could soar through them seeing the city from the view of the birds that fly by. Taking in a deep breath, Helena found her thoughts as distant as the clouds. She hadn't stolen or pick-pocket since Sherlock had paid her bail and since she helped with the case her crimes were diminished. Though she hasn't climbed higher places, she still does roof jumping and climbing up in public. A sigh escaped as she dropped her arm on her stomach and turned to head to the flat. The door was open and Sherlock was outside coat and scarf adorned as John staggered out shrugging his own jacket on. Helena got to her feet up into a crouching position watching a cab pulled over, the two got in and it drove off. She smirked and watched it drive off, standing straight Helena shoved her hands in her pockets and sauntered off to who knows where.

A day went by and the boys found out where the pin had been; Van Coon's P.A. Amanda had been using it as a common hair pin. Sherlock explained to her how it came to be, and its worth much to her gleeful surprise. John accepted the check Seb offered, which Sherlock asked John to take some out when checking it in.

The boys now sat at the dining table; Sherlock in his dressing gown over a purple dress shirt reading the paper. John opposite in a black and white striped jumper eating a plate of a meal he had made. Sherlock read the front of the paper headlines, "Who wants to be a million-hair". He folds it and puts it aside before taking another newspaper.

"Over a thousand years old and it's sitting on her bedside table every night." John stated seeing the headlines as well.

"He didn't know its value." Sherlock explains. "Didn't know why they were chasing him."

"Hmm. Should've just gotten her a lucky cat." John jokes as Sherlock smiles briefly at it and looking away a bit distant. John notices and folds his fingers at his chin. "You mind, don't you?"

Sherlock looks to him. "What?"

"That she escaped- General Shan. It's not enough that we got her two henchmen."

"It's enough to shut Dimmock up though." Jumped turned and sighed almost having a heart attack as Helena walked out of the kitchen hand in her jacket pocket the other holding a mug of tea.

"Jesus- when did you get here?" He asked, Sherlock didn't bat an eye.

"Just got in." Helena turned to Sherlock. "I got word Sherlock was needing me here. So, what's up?" She asked sipping the tea.

He to the right of the table handing her an envelope. She takes it and walks to the couch putting the mug on the table and looking it over. "It must be a vast network, John." Sherlock tells answering John. "Thousands of operatives. You, Helena, and I, we barely scratched the surface." He opens the paper to get more reading in.

"You cracked the code though, Sherlock." John responded glancing from Helena back to him. "And maybe Dimmock can track down all of them now that he knows it."

"No." Sherlock looked up shaking his head. "No. I cracked this code. All the smugglers have to do is pick up another book."

"What the hell is this?" John took a bite of his food looking up to Helena who got up to Sherlock glaring him. In her hand was a wad of money, more or less the 5,000 pounds Sherlock asked John to take out. "What is this.. shit?!" She exclaims slamming it down on the table.

"You said I owed you." He told looking at the paper snapping it open and lifting it to hide his face.

She slams it down to look at him. "Owe; yes. This is charity!" Sherlock looked up at her as she glared folding her arms. "I don't take money."

"Oh, but we know you won't put it towards you. Split it between who you know needs it." Sherlock retorted.

John looked between the two, slowly chewing his food hoping Helena hit him. She took a deep breath through her nose closing her eyes, Helena took the money and slid it into her back pocket. "Is that all?" She hisses.

"Not quite." Sherlock puts the paper down and goes into the drawer to his right pulling out a mobile phone handing it to her. She raises a brow at her, arms still crossed. "I want you to join my Homeless Network. You can be my eyes in the skye, Hawkeye." He throws her a wink.

Helena bites back, but lets a weary grin out taking the phone looking it over. "I heard from a few about it, what's the catch?"

"No catch. Well," Helena give a look. "Whenever I need your assistance in anything from sights to maps, I contact you. For your help I send payment to an account you can access anytime."

Helena looked to John, who rose his hands in defense. "I didn't even know he was planning this."

Thinking hard on it, her brown eyes gazed at the phone she kept fiddling with in her hands. Maybe, this is a new change to her life. Leading her usual homeless life into another one. Her eyes went between the two men, she had only known for about a week or more. One who she robbed and the other who saved her life. Giving a scuff, she tucked the down down her jacket into her bra and held a hand out to Sherlock. "It'll be a pleasure working in this with you, Mr. Holmes," She offered another to John. "and Dr. Watson."

John smiled taking her hand as Sherlock took her other one giving hand shakes to her. Indeed this was something new to all three of them.

"By the way, how did you get in." John asks as Helena took the couch with a sigh making herself at home. "I didn't hear the door downstairs.

"Oh, I climbed through Sherlock's window." She answered lifting the mug which she found on said sill of the window.


	7. Chapter 7

A few days had gone by since The Blind Banker case, as John had dubbed it. Helena at times forgot she had the mobile Sherlock gave her on her person, not used to having it on her. She wasn't an idiot though, she's obviously knew how it worked. Though nothing much has been from Sherlock, guessing cases were slow or he was being picky; as John put it. Helena dropped by to visit Mrs. Hudson for lunch spending time with her. She always tried to offer more to her, but Helena declined them kindly. At one or two points a week after, Sherlock asked for a route to an apartment on one case. Yet Helena had difficulty texting him the map and directions, so she just went to Baker Street and told him herself.

There was one particular rainy cold day, Helena was sitting outside under an overhead of a restaurant, hood up sitting on the cold pavement. She hated rain, it meant no roof jumping as she'd break a bone on the slippery wet surfaces. The phone stashed in her bra vibrated making her jump, she needs to change that damn setting. Reaching in Helena got it out seeing it was a text, from John. He was a contact in case Sherlock couldn't reach her, but he mostly texts when Mrs. Hudson wants company or Sherlock is driving him up a wall.

She grinned at the words.

**Any chance you want to take Sherlock out of here?  
He's asking for his cigarettes again.  
Get him some fresh air.  
JW**

Another text came from said consulting detective this time.

**Where did I last hide my smokes?  
SH**

Helena texted back to John first.

**I can come up and annoy him if he's desperate.  
H**

And then to Sherlock.

**In the left slipper under the couch, there's 14.  
H**

Funny thing with her initials, for Sherlock it meant Hawkeye and for John it was Helena. Soon a reply came from John first.

**So long as you come through the door.  
JW**

She barked a laugh earning a few strange looks from passers. Then a call came through, she never got a call, and the number was unknown. Helena clicked ignore just to see Sherlock's text.

**Get me some.  
John just took them.  
SH **

Another came up.

**Stop telling him where his cigarettes are!  
JW**

Helena giggled and the same call rang through. "Persistent little..." Helena clicked ignored again looking up thinking how to respond to the texts.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed one of the cameras moving to look right at her. She frowned at, and held her hand out to see if the rain had calmed down. Feeling the water pound on her hand, Helena decided to keep her spot. She shivered thinking about going to Baker Street, but she also reminded herself she can't keep going there when the weather wasn't in her favor. Helena started her text back to John when the call interrupted her for a third time. She finally pressed answer and put the phone to her ear, "Hello, you have reached someone who doesn't care about this call. Please, never call again."

She was about to hang up. "_I would pause that decision to hang up, Helena."_ Blinking, she slowly brought it back to her ear. "_Thought that'd get your attention."_ The voice; it was posh and light but not too light either. Helena can hear the grin in his words, proud to have kept her on the phone. What made it more strange, only John and Sherlock knew the number, the voice belonged to neither of them. It didn't help that only a few knew her real name, again it sounded like none of those said people.

Helena chose her words carefully, for all she knew it could be someone of Sherlock's case and somehow got the number. She doubted the boys were in trouble, but the voice gave a villain like tone to her. Her eyes shot to the camera out of instinct seeing it moving from the street to her again, she stared at it. "Hacker?"

"_Good guess, but no."_ He says, she knew he was grinning through that damned camera wherever this man was. "_Hawkeye, I ask for you to kindly cooperate when a vehicle approaches you."_

Taking a breath, Helena stood shoving a hand in her pocket to look as if she was ready to leave. A smirk was given to the camera. "And if I don't, deciding to make a scene causing an alarm to with people at present when the car arrives?"

A pause was on the other line, "_...I assure in said vehicle men are ready for any resistance that you make. I know your reputation from police on your previous crimes."_

Just as the black mercedes arrived, Helena hung up as the door opened for her. What was the worst that could happen to her? She climbed in sitting next to a woman who seemed too into her texting to acknowledge her. Expecting a man, Helena looked to the front of the car only the driver was present. She huffed as the vehicle moved onto the road, feeling foolish to believe that bluff. Helena glanced to the woman, but didn't speak to her. She wasn't one to approach women as well as men, a flaw she had since childhood.

The drive was silent much to the other woman's surprise. When the army doctor was picked up he questioned a lot of things, must have been a male thing. Helena kept track of the route they were heading to, with tinted windows she couldn't see out there so she mentally mapped it out. When the car stopped, the woman on the phone spoke.

"Don't worry," Helena glanced to her hand on the door handle. "he doesn't have a cage."

Helena nodded slowly and sighed exiting the car. The building was what she had been expecting; a warehouse. "How unpredictable..." She mumbled taking her time to enter the building.

Wandering around to find the man, not expecting what the man to look like, Helena found herself scaling the stairs to the higher loft of the empty place. "I was expecting you to be swinging through a window, honestly."

With a scoff her brown eyes gazed around seeing a single chair, no doubt for her as he stood there across from her. "That'd be too dangerous with the harsh rain." He wore a proper good suit; gray plaid trousers, waist coat, and suit jacket, white dress shirt, black tie, and unbuttoned coat to his knees matching the tie. She raised a brow at what he was leaning on, the shape wasn't a cane but a umbrella. Makes sense as it was raining so she didn't question it, though it was dry and his dress shoes were clean.

"But danger is your middle name." He quirked back, removing a hand from his pocket to extent to the chair. "Please, take a seat."

"I'm good, thanks." Helena nodded as she eyed the man. "...So, what's the catch." He raised a brow at her as she circled in her spot looking around more. "Friend held captive or maybe its one of those 'work for me to live' things?"

"None I assure." He told calmly, she tilted her head at him skeptically. "I just wish to speak face to face, to Hawkeye; the eye of the sky."

"I see, so my reputation goes that far?" Helena asks shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. "So, in case you're wondering-"

"I wasn't, not on that note at the very most." He cut her off with that smug look. She frowned, clearly getting annoyed by this gentleman. "I've seen you around a certain area a few times or more."

"I'm everywhere, what bloody 'area' exactly?" Helena snapped getting impatient narrowing her eyes.

He sighed, "For my own personal concern, what reason do you have to sighting Baker Street?"

Helena nodded now grinning. "So, this _does_ have to do with Sherlock Holmes, hm?" Helena took a few steps to the chair and took her hands out leaning on the back of it. "No, I will not send him a threatening message. If this is me being held hostage, note; I will resort to climbing to the roof to escape or jump out one of the many windows."

The man started to chuckle as he raised his umbrella spinning at the cane handle walking to her in slow strides. Helena took a step back, ready in case he was about to use the umbrella as a weapon. "You find me to be a villain of sort?" He questions standing right in front of the chair that sat between the two.

Helena rolled her eyes, "With the whole camera moving, somehow getting my number, knowing my name, convincing me to get into the car, taking me to some warehouse and approach like this? How could I not?"

"We're getting off track, Helena." He stated sharply. "You've worked on a case and been in some assistance of others to Sherlock Holmes. To my understanding you even welcome yourself in when the opterinity is given."

She shrugged, "Usually someone I work under leaves a tea mug, of course I take it as a 'welcome' and to let myself in."

"In his bedroom window?" He raised a brow.

"Sorry, your name was?"

"Not important, but you'll know in time."

Helena shook her head waving a finger at him. "That's not how it works, a name is pretty much all that should be given to me since-" Helena frowned and glared him gripping the chair. "You've been watching me?"

"Ever since you've been taken into the flat, yes." He paused with a sigh and twisted the umbrella into the floor looking at the rain pounding on the thin window. "Let's stay to the point of why you're here." The man leans on his umbrella once more. "You are nothing but a homeless thief, who thinks herself as the famous fictional hero Robin Hood; stealing rich to give to the poor. But, you've done less stealing ever since the encounter with Sherlock Holmes. You even now keep a mobile on you, some would say you've become his pet."

"He pays me in return to helping him, since he paid off my crimes." She explained.

"Ahh, I see." He looked to her." Maybe I can take you as my own pet for a better offer." Helena crossed her arms, at this feeling the phone vibrate. She checked it quickly as he continued. "No doubt Sherlock pays you well, but if you gave information of him to me I can pay you just as much."

**Sherlock made some tea,  
you arriving soon?  
JW**

Helena winced at the text forgetting to get back to them, she put her phone away deciding to reply as soon as she was done here. "So, you're bribing me to snitch to you on what Sherlock does?"

"I can pay you enough for you to have your own home and life. Become domestic."

Eyes narrowed pointing a finger at him, that damned word. "Who ever the hell you are, I will never snitch Sherlock to you!" Helena turned ready to descend down the stairs.

"Mycroft." She paused at the first step turning to him. "The name's Mycroft. I was," He swung his umbrella around again looking at the said item. "hoping you'd be different from John." This caused her to step forward to him.

"John? John Watson? Wait, you.." She walked up to him. "Are you Sherlock's friend or foe?"

Mycroft smiled to her, feeling achievement for gaining her attention back. "He considers me an enemy. Normal people don't have enemies-"

"Everyone has an enemy." She told quickly cutting him off. "He has many enemies I'm sure with his line of work. I have a few for who I am, what I am. Nothing is 'normal'."

A grin spread upon Mycroft's lips. "That's what I wanted to hear."

* * *

No response came from Helena after John's last text. He wondered if the phone died or she simply didn't get it. Trying not to get the small thought of her jumping roofs after stealing something again. The army doctor glanced from the window to Sherlock who typed away on his laptop, near slamming keys inpatient of Helena's arrival. An email he got was currently annoying him, he folded his hands at his mouth again glaring the screen.

"Maybe she went a slower route." John suggested looking back outside seeing the rain had died down finally.

Sherlock didn't respond.

"After all, she wouldn't dare try to jump this wet outside."

Sherlock hmmed back.

John sighed turning to his flat mate across from him, leaning on the dining chair. "Are you choosing not to care or just oblivious to the fact she hasn't arrived nor replied."

"Oh, please John." Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. "From her not replying within the hour is nothing to grow concern over. Scotland Yard has no reason to be after her, not to mention she lived on her own for twelve years."

He did a double take at Sherlock, "Twelve years?"

"Give or take," He shrugged standing buttoning his jacket and striding to the kitchen with his mug now empty. "I could be off by a year or three."

"Try two." John jumped at the new voice peeking into the kitchen seeing Sherlock pouring her a fresh cup of warm tea. "Got cold."

"That's what happens when you leave a mug of tea by an open cold window for an hour." Sherlock replied sipping his own freshly poured cup.

Helena grinned walking into the living room, "Afternoon, John."

He sighed with a small chuckle plopping into his chair. "Doors were invented for a reason."

"And the day I use them, a collar will be around my neck." She leaning on the dining table earning a strange look from John but waved the statement off. "So, Sherlock." Said man joined the others retaking his seat at the laptop. "Still bored? Or shall I show you the wonders?"

John chuckled at her as she extended her arms out. "Should've been here sooner. The rain slow you down?" He asked.

"Mostly, lost reception going under ground." Helena looked to Sherlock. "What's with the scowl?"

"He got an email that has him very crossed."

"Insulted, more like." Sherlock told as Helena turned to read the text on his screen. What got her attention, was a word that was repeated immensely. A man had sent two emails how he was convinced his Peruvian wife was sucking their baby son's blood. Caught by the nanny multiple times. Her brows knotted putting a hand on her hip, "Vampires? Did some man off drugs send this?"

"Trust me, it's not." Sherlock muttered as he closed his email and shut the laptop.

"He's been bored, shouldn't he take the case, Helena?" John asked with hope to get Sherlock to stop whining.

"I refuse to take a case from a client who doesn't take me as serious, John!" He barked showing his anger of the request.

"Wait, wait, back the train up boys." Helena put the mug down and walked to the mantel to look between the two. "Sherlock won't take this case because it involves 'vampires'? Is that all?"

John sighed, "She sees it's no big deal."

"I-I never said that."

"Rubbish, John, rubbish! What have we to do with walking corpses who can only be held in their grave by stakes driven through their hearts? It's pure lunacy!" Sherlock exclaimed, Helena never seen him so.. insulted.

"Well, I did hear two kids were diagnosed with something like vampirism." The boys brought their attention to her as she jumped to Sherlock's laptop to search what she was talking about. John got up and went to Sherlock's other side looking at the screen. "Here, it's called Hypohidrotic Ectodermal Dysplasia. An extremely rare condition."

She stood away leaning close to Sherlock to type it, as Sherlock looked it over reading it to himself. John leaned in as well reading it out loud. "'Ectodermal dysplasias typically affect the hair, teeth, nails, and/or skin.'" John scrolled down that showed two boys with sharp teeth, pale skin, and very thin scraggy hair. "Do they actually suck blood?"

Helena laughed, "No, it's only compared to it because of the looks. If anything it's just a birth defect about sweat glands or something. Sort of like being born albino."

"Well, that lead to nothing." Sherlock gave not enjoying the two taking over his laptop as they kept getting in his way.

Helena sighed crossing her arms at him. "What about the theory of drinking blood to stay young?"

"Oh!" Sherlock mumbled a 'God..' in a mixed groan as she leaned back in to search that. Helena scrolled through as Sherlock struggled to get up from the chair and away from the two as Helena took his seat and they both took his laptop. "I keep finding bathing but not drinking."

"I doubt a infant has enough to bath in." Sherlock remarked plopping into his chair by the fire place.

"Should I search the amount of blood in a infant?" Helena asked.

"No!" John gave and took control in typing.

Sherlock sat there questioning how it turned out like this to himself.

* * *

That night John convinced Helena to stay the night as it was supposed to storm that night. She reluctantly agreed and took the couch. The night was boring as John just watched crap telly, Sherlock typed on his blog from questions he was given, and Helena just read the book she wished to continue from the shelf. Mrs. Hudson came up at one point checking on them from how quiet it was, but seeing Helena made her burst into a big grin happy she was safe inside as the rain pounded the windows. She soon joined with her down in her flat for some of those tasty biscuits she loved.

"I never heard the boys so quiet before, I was scared the two got into a domestic and weren't talking." Mrs. Hudson gave sipping her tea.

Helena giggled swallowing her mouth full, such manners. "Really? I just thought it was normal for that between the two."

A sudden slam was heard, the two looked up at the ceiling as muffled yelling erupted. "Those were for the eggs Sarah made for tomorrow!" Shouted John.

"Where else was I to put it, John!? Besides they weren't that well made." Argued Sherlock.

"Did you-" Another slam, probably the fridge door or jar onto the table surface. Thin walls, Helena thought. "You are them!?"

"Isn't that what food is for? To eat! You always go on about me not eating enough!"

"I don't exactly mean food Sarah made!"

"I see what you mean." Helena sipped her tea.

Suddenly a huge thunder erupted causing the woman to jump, then everything went black. The sound of the radio Mrs. Hudson had went dead and the fridge's humming followed in suit. The poor lady cried in a small fright at the sudden darkness as Helena stood to her feet. "Good job, boys! You pissed God off!" She called going to Mrs. Hudson to help her stand as to not trip. "Shall we join the boys upstairs?"

"Oh, it's alright, deary. I last checked how late it was, I'll be alright going to bed." She told sweetly as she leaned at the counter.

Soon thudding footsteps echoed down the stairs, as a light flashed down the hall, then into the flat at the kitchen, it was John. "You ladies alright?"

"Perfectly fine," Mrs. Hudson assured as they blinked at the shining torch John held.

"Want to join us upstairs? Sherlock is getting candles set up." He told shining the light off their faces.

"I was off to bed soon anyway, just be sure not set fire to anything." She told giving John a motherly stern look.

Helena laughed softly as Mrs. Hudson took an emergency light from her drawer and turned it on. "I'll babysit them, Mrs. Hudson. Don't worry."

They bid her a good night, as John assured to let them know if she needed help in the dark. The two themselves went upstairs finding small light in the 221b flat of candles Sherlock had lit. There was ones on the coffee table, dinning table, and the fireplace was now being worked on.

Helena gasped dramatically, hands on her cheeks with a teasing smile. "Sherlock, it's a perfect moment! Just need romantic music and dinner." He turned giving a glare as John barked out a laugh under his hand to keep his volume low. She patted over as John wandered upstairs. "Need help?"

"I am perfectly capable of setting the fire up." He gave taking the box of matches from beside him. Helena watched, Sherlock took a match out and ran it against the side trying to get spark going. Finding it a dud, he chucked it into the pile in the fireplace. Taking another out, a spark struck from this one and he lowered into light the paper mashed with the wood. The paper started to light, but Sherlock held it too long as the heated flame nicked his skin, he hissed at the sudden heated sting letting the flame grow as the match joined the fire.

"Nice; not a true man until one makes fire." Helena teased watching the flames grow as it spread to the wood. "Now we'll be warm." She looked to Sherlock's hand as he picked up the box, she reached over taking his hand to see the his burnt finger.

"What are you doing?" He asked eyeing her with a frown

"Just checking the burn." She defended looking at his index finger seeing a small red mark.

"John can look at it later." Sherlock tugged his hand back.

Helena gave him a look and took his hand roughly. "But I can look on it now."

Sherlock sighed, watching her turn his hand over to see his finger. It was barely first degree burn, it would just itch over night, then swell a bit and then be gone. His eyes searched her, as the fire crackled beside them, their bodies took in the warmth as the cold wind and rain pelted the windows. Her fingers were thin but long, hands were soft despite the roughness she gives living on the streets. They were smaller compared to his hands, though a man his height was expected to have hands his size. Her nails were just over the edge of the tips, they were clean indicating she wore gloves to keep germs and dirt out. Explained how her skin was soft and smooth, it made sense with the cold.

His bright eyes continued to scan up her arms, shoulders, slender neck, and then her face at least. Cheeks were small, but when smiling he can see them perfectly. Her auburn red hair brought out the faded freckles scoring across her cheeks and over her nose, but also brought out those dark chocolate eyes. Natural thin brows, that when arched gave the perfect looks with the best expressions. Some strands of the red hair fell from her shoulder and into her face blocking her site. Helena lifted a hand to move them, but another hand beat her to it, moving the hair for her. Those dark eyes shot up at Sherlock, it was his hand that shot out to move her hair from that soft face. The fire light her eyes up, seeing the different shades of brown in the true iris of her eyes. Despite the grease look in hair, it was soft and he could feel the waves in the strands that spread down his digits.

Eyes locked onto each other for what felt like an hour at most, until a clear of the throat cut the silence. The two looked up seeing John holding two unlit candles looking between the two with a confused but shocked mixed stare. Helena let Sherlock's hand go, as he pulled his other back from her face and they both stood stepping a bit away from each other.

"So, um…" He coughed and put the candles down, "I found more er, candles.."

"Oh good!" Helena gave cracking her voice making her heart skip. A sweat was feeling to break down her neck as she took the matches from Sherlock and rushed over taking the candles. "I'll just take a quick bath." Helena hurried down the hall and into the bathroom with a slam of the door.

John blinked and looked back to Sherlock, who had his share moved facing the fire his back to him. Sherlock's way of avoiding a conversation or hiding something. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Of course not." Sherlock quickly said, a bit too quickly as he stared at the fire.

Not letting this drop, John took his seat in his chair and leaned forward tilting his head to see Sherlock's face. "I must have, cause I swear I saw her holding your hand. The other was on her cheek."

"I was moving hair from her face and she was examining a burn on my hand." Sherlock snapped showing his hand with the red small burn.

"And the staring into each others eyes bit?" John added. "It looked like you two were about to snog right there."

"Ugh, John!" Sherlock stressed turning to him. "Anything you are trying to insinuate on happening there, wasn't happening! I was lighting the fire, burned myself, she was checking, some hair fell into her face so I moved it for her to see."

John watched him silently, then leaned back, nodding. "Hm-hmm, makes sense." Sherlock leaned back looking at the fire. "Now, was that going through your mind before or after you moved her hair."

Sherlock took a sharp intake and breath glaring his blogger. "Don't you have morning shift tomorrow at the surgery?"

* * *

Despite the lack of lighting, the two lit candles was enough for Helena to enjoy her hot bath. She wasn't one for them, preferring showers, but she didn't want to slip from lack of light so she decided to stay with a bath. It was silent as the only sound of the water sloshing about at her movements echoed in the room. Her cheeks were warm but was it from the hot water she assured herself. Helena lifted her soaked hands from the water still having the feeling of Sherlock's hand in hers. A sigh escape leaning her head back and sunk in deeper into the water letting her hair to become fully soaked. Her mind kept replaying over and over the scene and expression Sherlock gave. Helena could read expressions excellent and map away from Bake Street to the next city over within a second. But the expression Sherlock held to her, exposed to her, looked right at her-

"Gahh!" Helena gasped returning to the surface forgetting where she was for the moment. Panting a bit giving her lungs the needed air, her face was for sure even more red. She brought her hands up to rub her face giving an aggravated growl as she did so. Helena wanted to just hide here until the boys went to sleep, but she knew she couldn't.

Soon the now clean woman emerged from the water and let the drain suck the water down its pipes as she stood. Helena dried off with a towel John left earlier when she waited for the tub to fill. He offered to clean her clothing -not in an insulting way of course-, but not wanting to sleep on their furniture with dirty clothing she agreed to it. John loaned one of his better looking jumpers and sweat pants. It wasn't until she looked around that her bra was in the wash as well, she didn't really like the unprotected feeling of her bra off. Not to mention sleeping at a flat of two men. The jumper was knitted cream white, it was really perfect for a cold night as tonight. Though it was a bit big on her as the sleeves slipped a bit over her hands, curse her thin bone frame. The sweatpants hung off her small hips but she tied the strings tightly to keep them from falling.

Helena sighed and ruffled the towel over her wet hair exiting the bathroom. When entering the living room, she found only Sherlock sitting in his chair looking at the fire. Though, hard to tell with the angle, with his hands steepled at his chin his eyes might have been closed. Helena decided not to disturb him and went over to the couch seeing the blanket and pillow set up for her, John was always a step ahead. With the towel over her shoulders she took the blanket and set it up laying it over the couch for when she was ready for bed. The bath woke her up more than tire her out, so Helena walked over taking John's seat hugging her knees looking at the fire.

"Where's John?" She asked keeping her eyes on the soft crackling flames.

"Bed." Sherlock answered in a low soft tone.

Helena nodded and propped her chin on her knees. It grew silent between the two, only sound was the rain pounding the city and the fire crackling with the snapping wood. The warmth felt good, as was being clean and dry. "It's been so long."

Sherlock opened his eyes glancing to her. "So long since…?"

She shrugged, "I've been in a warm home during rough weather."

Lowering his arms onto the armrests, Sherlock examined her. "How many years was I off?"

Her eyes shot to him, giving a soft scoff with a smile. "If I don't tell, how much will you pester me on the subject?"

"I'll just keep giving numbers until I get something out of you."

"Does that work with everyone?"

"Yes." Helena rose her brow at that. "It does." He defended with a glare.

"I didn't say it didn't!" She laughed out holding her hands up. "But won't work with me, I will say that." He rolled his eyes with a sigh at that as she grinned. "So only you can deduce people or is it genetic?"

"No, anyone with the brain capacity can deduce anything." He answered tapping his fingers on the arms.

"Ahh, so you must be the special one in your family then?" She inquired with a grin. Sherlock just eyed her, not answering. Helena nodded, "Not fair for me to ask and you not to right? Okay, two can play this."

Helena fixed her posture to move John's chair a bit closer, Sherlock frowned in confusion at this. She was close enough to be within touching range, taking his wrist with one hand and putting her wrist in his hand. Sherlock then got the gist of it all, taking a good hold of his wrist to feel her pulse as she felt his.

"To answer, you weren't off at all." Sherlock focused his eyes onto hers; pupils right and her pulse normal. "I became homeless at the age of fifteen."

Sherlock grinned at being right but didn't rub it in as she gave a look to say 'your turn'. "No, I'm not the.._special_ one. My brother can deduce as well."

"That so.." She nodded mentally noting. "Well, you're turn."

Sherlock was silent, he honestly didn't need to play this game. He was deducing her every time his eyes was on her. From her age to where she got her clothing. Though one thing did catch his attention that has been lingering in his large mind.

The silence made the homeless woman laugh. "What? Can't decide what to ask? I thought you'd have lots of questions." Her fingers gently rubbed his wrist subconsciously, Sherlock resisted to look down in disgust.

But he did release his hand on her wrist and retreat his own from her. With hesitance Helena leaned back in the chair. "I don't need to ask."

"Oh, so game's over then? Lasted longer than I thought to be honest." She laughed softly looking to the fire.

The two were silent, only the crackling of the fire and rain patting the windows could be heard. The time was a bit unknown unless one of them checked their phones, too dark for Sherlock to read his watch. Sherlock glanced to her seeing her on her cell typing something, texting who? The contact was to be him and John only.

Helena felt the eyes on her and chuckled. "In case you're wondering, I'm not texting anyone you don't know." She sent a teasing wink making him roll his own.

"Someone I despise?" He questioned.

"Ohh, we're playing again? I thought you were done." She laughed pressing send. Helena shoved the phone into her pocket and smiled slyly at the detective. "To answer… hmm, _maybe_."

"That's not an answer."

"Yea it is."

"No, no it's not."

Helena laughed harder but covered her mouth, John was sleeping after all. "Yes it is!" Was Sherlock really falling into this game of hers?

Said man was about to retort but noticed her game right away and just huffed onto his feet leaving the room. She swore she heard a mutter of 'is not' as if trying to win this war.

Helena snickered and took her phone out sending him a text. She waited… Sherlock came back into the room checking his phone on the desk, Helena hid her phone right away watching him. Sherlock read the text and glared him, she laughed even harder, he gave up and left to his bedroom slamming the door. No more than 2 minutes later her phone beeped. Expecting the text from Sherlock, her brows rose to see it was from him.

Helena read it and just muffled her face into the union jack pillow to mute her giggles.

**Sherlock update**

**playing with him in the dark**

**H**

* * *

"So BORED!" Helena yelled from the rooftop causing some near by pigeons to fly off from her sudden yell. She glared at the birds with envy, "Wish I could fly like you guys." She pouted and sat down at the edge looking down at the people down below. "Someone give me something to do."

The near becoming ex-criminal fell onto her back looking at the gray blue mixed sky. "Rain or sunny? Pick already.." She grumbled, then closed her eyes just as the sun shined through. "I didn't mean it.." Helena chuckled as something blocked her blinding star. "Hi Trevor."

He raised a brow with a sneer down at her. "Hawkeye bored? The world must be ending if you of all people have nothing to do." Trevor teased.

Helena sat up with a grunt as he sat beside her. The last they spoke was during their little fight, Trevor was glad to see her but hoped she wasn't mad still. Well, one way to find out. He took a breath turned to her,

"How's life with the detective." No, no!

Helena side glanced him, did he really just? "It's different.." She told keeping her self in check, don't snap.

"Oh.." Okay, she's still cool. Try once more. "..Feed you well?"

"What!?"

"Oh GOD I didn't mean to say that!"

"You said it though!"

"I know, I'm an idiot!"

"Yes you are!"

The two grew silent staring at each other, almost like cats waiting to strike. Then burst out laughing at this whole conversation. Her laughing was a big billboard sign that the two were indeed alright. People looked around to figure out where the echoing laughter was coming from but just later excused it as weird people and continued their way. Helena wiped her eyes from the tears, Trevor held his gut falling onto his back.

"Gonna pee myself!" He let out curling into a ball.

Helena shoved his shoulder, "Freak!" She coughed.

Soon the two calmed down Helena on her back next to Trevor finally able to breath. The two just smiled at the sky, Hawkeye placed her arms behind her head closing her eyes to enjoy a nice breeze coming in. The sun warming her face with a smile, Trevor glanced smiling at her. The light shined on her cheeks and make her hair more maroon than auburn. His fingers twitched with an urge to touch and comb through the soft hair or caress his knuckles against her smooth face. Just looking at her made his heart pound hard and his breathing hitch just a tad. But that small tad made it feel like suffocation seeing her free and happy.

"Still bored?" He asked finding his voice.

"Not anymore.." She whispered softly.

Damn, she was so beautiful, and he loved her for more than just that. Her compassion for helping the less fortunate, knowledge in the streets, risking herself for others, quick wit, and strong will to do anything. That's what made her beautiful.

The two friends pretty much stayed like this until the sunset, when Trevor awoke she was gone with nothing but a bag of chinese ribs in her place.

* * *

Bullet shots ripped through the flat taking a break every 15 seconds. Almost 15 seconds exactly. The lazy drawl of aiming at the yellow spray painted smiley face on the wall, bullet holes somehow getting the eyes, outline or just down right missing my 10 inches. Didn't matter to Sherlock Holmes. In his gray shirt, charcoal pants, and blue gown proved he wasn't going anywhere today. In fact he had just gotten home that night and the last thing he wanted to do was go outside.

Bored.

Sherlock Holmes was bored. Unlike the street Hawk who just laid about yelling being bored, Sherlock near tore things about just as it tore his brain apart with no case to solve. This was his own personal hell. Blue eyes looked to the ceiling, the door slammed shut and thumping slowly up the stairs. John was home; Sherlock heaved a deep sigh and shot at the wall;

Bam!

…

Bam!

Bam!

...Bam!

Finally that hurried John to run up the stair fingers dug into his ear to find Sherlock was indeed the one firing the gun. Upon John's arrival he let his hand hang limp but held the weapon firmly. "What the _hell_ are you doing!?" He spats standing outside the room.

"Bored…" He mumbles.

John squints, what was that? "What?"

"Bored!" He barks springing to his feet.

"No-"

Sherlock shoots at the wall a few more times yelling bored at every shot. John regrets asking covering his ears once again. Each shot he fired was twisting his hand behind it back. He soon stopped giving the wall a small frown. Taking the chance John seizes the gun out of Sherlock's hand who allows it. The doctor takes the clip out putting the clip down and going to the small safe box on the table. Sherlock wandered to the sofa,

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them."

John looked up after putting said empty gun in the safe. "So you take it out on the wall?"

"Ah, the wall had it coming.." he replied smoothing his fingers against it then rips a piece of stray wallpaper from it. Almost in a dramatic sense he raps his gown and flops onto the couch, indeed like a bored child.

John removed his coat as Sherlock made himself comfortable digging his bare feet into the over end of the sofa. "What about that russian case?" He asked.

"Belarus." Sherlock quickly corrects. "Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time." He folded his hands over his flat stomach almost looking like he was going to nap right there, Sherlock didn't nap so that case was thrown out along with the Belarus one.

"Ah, shame." John gave walking into the kitchen. He sees the mess on the kitchen throwing his arms up, Sherlock made himself homey fast on his return. John now forgets how it was eating at that table during his leave. "Anything in? I'm starving." The medical man went straight to the fridge only to be greeted-

"Oh f-" John slammed it shut and pausing. Did he just see? Hanging his head, he paused, then looked back in again taking in the sight of… a head. On a shelf, fully exposed nothing to cover it was a man's head cut right at the neck. Sure, John has seen some things at war. But never in his life did he _ever_ think to see a man's head… in his fridge. Slowly yet delicately, he shuts the fridge, "It's a head." He told himself. "A severed head!"

"Just tea for me, thanks." Was Sherlock's reply.

"No, there's a head in the fridge." John walked back into the living room.

"Yes." Sherlock confirmed.

"A bloody head!"

"Well, where _else_ was I supposed to put it?" He looked up at John. "You don't mind, do you?" John just holds his arms out, as if his expression was a hint of a YES. "I got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death." John just ran a hand down his face, he rather the bag of fingers than a head. The detective waved his hand lazily toward the lapop. "I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

John glanced to the fridge, he'd deal with that before Mrs. Hudson found out or Helena's next visit. Did she knew Sherlock was back? "Uh, yes." He takes a seat in Sherlock's chair.

""A Study in Pink. Nice."

"Well, you know; pink lady, pink case, pink phone- there was a lot of pink." Sherlock reaches for a magazine on the coffee table flipping through it. "Did you like it?"

"Ummm… _no_."

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

"Flattered?" Sherlock lowered the magazine looking to John- no glaring. ""Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.""

John shook his head, "Now hang on a minute. I didn't mean that in a-"

"Oh, you meant "spectacularly ignorant' in a _nice _way." Sherlock gave showing he was obviously offensive of John's blog entry. "Look, it doesn't matter to me who's prime minister,"

"I know." John softly said to himself.

"or whose sleeping with who."

"Whether the Earth goes round the Sun."

Sherlock turned his head in annoyance letting the magazine rest on his chest. "Oh not that again. It's not _important_."

"Not imor-" John shifted in his seat leaning over looking to him. "It's primary school stuff. _How_ can you not know that? I bet Helena would know that in a heartbeat if asked."

Groaning, Sherlock rubbed the palms of his hand into his eyes doubting she would. "Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it."

"Deleted it?" John questioned.

Sherlock sat up swinging his feet onto the floor and tossed the magazine onto the table. "Listen." He pressed his finger against his temple. "This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful ... _really_ useful." He let his hand drop with a pass of grimace pass his features. "Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

John was quiet for a bit, taking in Sherlock's words. He bit his lip to resist, "But it's the _solar system!_"

"Oh hell!" Sherlock groaned burying his head in his hands then shoots back up. "What does that _matter_!?" He gives now frustrated at this argument John had started. "So we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference." John looked away just as frustrated as he was. "All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots." Sherlock ruffled his hair with his hands and glared at John one last time. "Put _that _in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world."

In a child like manner; Sherlock shoved the magazine, turned his back to john curling into a ball pulling his grown tightly around him, having a pouting fit. As John and Helena would see it. John swallowed and pursed his lips in thought, and jumped to his feet slinging his coat back on. He wasn't going to take Sherlock's little fit of being bored, he didn't need this.

Sherlock heard noises and looked over seeing John with his coat on. "Where are you going?" He asked innocently as if that spat never happened.

"Out." He answered shortly. "I need some air." John spat going downstairs giving Mrs. Hudson a small sorry near bumping into her. As he left the flat, he crossed the street texting two people; One was Sarah to ask if he could stay at her place. Another was someone who could give Sherlock the needed attention, Helena.

* * *

"Here's some extra blankets, it's going to be a chilly night." Helena's voice softly gave to a two homeless couple as they huddled together with the blankets she gave.

"Bless you, Helena. You can always stay with us." The boyfriend offered as the girlfriend drank her hot soup.

"Oh no, you two need the warmth more than I." She assured with a smile. "Just stay warm and together."

"Oh, we will." He grinned earning a slap on the shoulder from his girlfriend.

Helena chuckled and left to check on the others in this small homeless community. Everyone had warm food and blankets putting her hood on as a breeze roughly blew in. She didn't need it, others did. Seeing them taken well care of gave her a teeth chattering smile. As she was leaving the district a 'ping!' came from her cellphone. Helena fished it out seeing a text from John,

**Sherlock is back  
Staying at Sarah's  
JW**

"Ohh, what did you do now Sherlock?" She chuckled texting back to him.

**I'll go see him  
Give her a hello for me  
H**

The street Hawk then started her run to Baker Street taking a brisk walk along the roofs. But then a shake near by cause her to look towards where an explosion echoed out and smoke flew into the sky. That was Baker Street; Hawkeye now sped over the roofs jumping ledges and trying to keep her heart rate even. Once she arrived, the smoke cause her to find it hard to see if it was their flat exactly that blew up or another near by.

She climbed down a fire escape and came around see it was the building across, thankfully but still those poor people. Her eyes shifted up seeing the glass blown out at Sherlock and John's flat. "What happened..?" Helena shoved through the growing crowd and started her way up climbing the building to get to the open windows. John was gone, but was Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson alright!?

"Sherlock! Mrs. Hudson!"


	8. Chapter 8

It was difficult but the Hawk got to the window pulling herself through the broken window. Helena felt something stab her jeans but ignored it as it was stray glass cutting her. Her main objective was her two friends and making sure they were alright. The dust caused her to cough, Helena wrapped her hood around her mouth and nose looking around. "Sherlock!"

A groan and coughing erupted, Helena shot to the floor by the chairs. She instantly knelt down feeling his arms and sides, no cuts or glass embedded into him. Sherlock shook his head feeling some glass fall from his hair to get to his hands and knees. "Hawk..?"

"You alright? Anything hurt or broken?" She asked helping his get to his knees dusting the glass off him. Helena brought a hand to his cheek to look up at her, "Can you see? Can you hear?"

Hearing was understatement; everything was muffled he could barely hear her and his sight was blurry. But he nodded just to hear her talk to possibly help the muffling fade. Her questions were hard to answer as she lifted him off the ground and into a chair, his or John's it was hard to tell. It was more comfortable than the floor that was for sure.

Soon his head started to clear up and he managed to look Helena in the eye; concern and fear were in those eyes. She kept asking what his name was and where he lived.

"Sherlock Holmes. 221b Baker Street." He answered once he was able to form words.

"Alright, you're not brain dead. Good." She smiled feeling the worry fall off her shoulders. "...Any cuts or injuries?" Her arms gently skimmed over Sherlock's arms waiting for any signs of pain. With nothing she felt his legs, nothing. "Good so far.."

Sherlock watched her from her knelt position on the floor as he sat on the chair, blood. Why did he smell blood? He knew he wasn't bleeding so.. Her hands were coming to his face gently touching his cheeks and ruffling any more glass bits from his hair. Eyes shot around to seeing blood on her leg.

"Sherlock! Are you alright!?" The two turned seeing Mrs. Hudson shakily come up the stairs, not injured but looked shaken. Helena nodded, "Sherlock's alright, I-"

"Oh deary! You're bleeding!"

Helena looked down seeing the cut on her leg was now bleeding into her jeans, she was so focused on Sherlock to even notice. "Ohh, so I am. Sorry, I better clean it up before it leaves stains."

"Mrs. Hudson, help her with that." Sherlock spoke sitting up in his chair, Helena stood as he did.

"Very well, come on dear." The elder woman waved her over, "Careful of the glass." She gently warned.

Helena was careful not to step on any as Sherlock walked past the kitchen and down the hall to his room, no question to get dressed. Mrs. Hudson led Helena down to her flat to tend her cut, she offered to clean and sew the cut on her pants, but Helena accepted the cleaning and would sew them herself. She stayed down in the flat until they were clean, now and then she heard thudding of people entering the flat and going upstairs. Once they were clean, she put them back on and returned upstairs with a sewing kit Mrs. Hudson lend her.

Back up she found Sherlock now dressed with his purple shirt under his suit jacket inspecting some of his items. His eyes looked up seeing her put the kit on the coffee table. "You okay?" She asked.

"..Hm? Oh yes, all is fine." He answered his eyes catching site of the rip on her jeans now clean. Helena moved around inspecting the rest of the place.

"Jesus, what hell happened? Terrorist attack?" She asked picking up his music stand that fell over. Peeking outside the fire department and police were already inspecting the building that was blown out across the street.

"Gas explosion more of less," Sherlock answered seeing his Violin was indeed alright, now in search for the bow.

The Hawk searched about picking up papers and placed them on the table. Glass was still everywhere, she went downstairs and reappeared with a dust pan and broom. Sherlock found said bow, it was fine as well placing both items on his chair. He looked over, then down at Helena as she was sweeping the glass. "There's no need for that." He told bluntly stepping over to check his laptop.

"Well, someone's gotta clean it. And we all know you won't, I told Mrs. Hudson shouldn't. John isn't here…" She trailed off remembering the text, then paused and looked up at the detective. "Say, what was it you said to John?"

Sherlock simply answered, "Nothing." He then caught Helena's look of doubt.

"...What did you two fight about this time?" She asked sounding like a mother wanting to know what her two sons were fighting for. Helena sat down and got the thread and needle starting her work on fixing her jeans.

"I don't think that's your business."

"I think it is since John texted me."

"John had no right."

"He has every right."

Sherlock sighed with a small groan obviously annoyed by what Helena was leading him to. "If you _must_ know, John had written up the taxi driver case-"

"Study in Pink?"

The dark haired detective turned very slowly giving a glare at her words. "...Yes." He hissed under his breath. Helena bit her lip, already feeling him tense when she said that and knowing what caused the argument. Though she guessed he didn't expect her to be reading the blog, thanks 3g phone.

"Was it something about his entry that made you mad?" She asked, Sherlock turned away making her grin. "...You were offended." She gave slowly. "Wow I didn't know that was possible. Well, I guess possible but hard to see."

"He doesn't seem to understand how I work." He told moving his and John's laptop.

Helena chuckled. "No one really ever does, Sherlock."

Sherlock wanted to counter with a 'you do' but did she? She thought the same using her brain for useful routes through London just as he keeps needed information only for his cases. Thinking of where to go and how to get there within seconds was just as fast as him figuring a puzzle out.

"I do."

His eyes shot to her, her own were down as the needle work was now starting to work on the cut.. Sherlock didn't want to say he wasn't expecting her to know sewing because being a female, but he has seen stitch patterns on her hoodie a few times. No doubt from her runs of escaping the police cutting and ripping her clothing apart. It seemed the homeless community had more clothing than she had since her-

"Helena." He called watching her.

"Hm?" She responded looking down at her sewing to make sure she didn't poke herself with the needle.

Sherlock moved closer taking careful steps, not of the glass just careful to Helena. His long arms reached for the chair by the table sweeping glass and dust off taking a seat across from her. He took a breath, and spoke.

"You're a thieving Samaritan of London, starting at the age of seventeen two years after your homeless life started when you stole a pocket watch from an ambassador. You soon became the known 'Hawkeye' popping up at random sights becoming an obsession to Lestrade. Running around making Scotland Yard chasing their tails is your favorite way to pass the time making them look foolish."

Helena paused her sewing staring at him with knotted brows. Sherlock was using as much gathered information as he had to confront Helena with his deductions.

"There's a scar on your torso, lower abdomen to be exact. By the look of where its located could be counted as a stab wound. It's not fresh so must have gotten it young." Sherlock locked his fingers together in his lap with his legs crossed. "The cause of your 'choice' to be homeless is running away from your home. Reason could be of any typical teenager; marriage, new family member, not feeling the freedom sound more up your alley." He took a breath, eyes still locked with hers. "It would explain your distrust to people and choice of solitude. Your passion for the homeless comes from an experience of your own." Sherlock paused and pressed his flat fingers to his chin, leaning back he thought.

Helena just watched him, her expression stone. She waited when he would deduce her, it was unexpected to her that's for sure.

"...Your father." he breathed out, her eyes twitched at that. "He died, did he not?"

Helena bit her lip showing obvious signs he was right. But he wanted to hear it straight from her. Letting a sigh escape, she nimbly played with the needle cutting contact with his eyes. "He was my hero; always getting me out of trouble in school. I started fights a lot defending other people who were bullied. Always understood my beliefs in standing up for whats right and all that."

Sherlock was silent listening to her tale.

A weary smile graced her lips. "He kept a lot of my trouble from my mother. She never approved of what I did and always blamed me for being the black sheep of the family. Curtis… He-"

"Curtis?" Sherlock questioned, then it clicked. "You're older brother."

"Younger." The detective mentally cursed, never could he get siblings right. "I hid all the bad things from him, kept the bliss in his life. Protected him as much as I could from how bad the world could be."

"..But."

"Ah, isn't there always?" She asked finally looking up with glassy eyes, but shot down to her jeans to hide them from him. Her fingers continued the sewing. "My dad died saving me. I was helping a homeless man who was being harassed by some jerks who thought it was funny to make jokes on him. They.. they had a gun."

Sherlock looked down noting her hands were becoming sloppy with her sewing than before. She obviously wasn't paying attention as she continued.

"I never handled anyone with it, and I froze on the spot. The man ran off leaving me to the men, it was just as they put me against the wall.. My father arrived. They shot him.. r-right in the chest and-" Her voice quivered but she swallowed to keep herself calm. What would crying do? And doing so in front of Sherlock.

"You're father's death caused you to leave your family." He indicated not daring to move, Helena though just nodded.

How did it get to this, they both wondered. Helena just wanted to check on Sherlock who was alright and help clean the mess the explosion caused. Sherlock wanted to read her like a book and finally has… But seeing her go silent gave a heavy faint feeling in his chest. Why? He always got this reaction but never cared how it hurt them. It amazed John, maybe Sherlock expected her to react the same as he did.

The room indeed stayed silent as Helena finished sewing her jeans and putting the kit away leaving it on the table. Sherlock stood right at the same time Helena did, her eyes darting around as if looking for something.

"This is the part where you call me names, maybe hit me." Sherlock told fixing his suit jacket.

She looked up raising a brow, though eyes were still glossy they held amusement. "Why would I do that?"

He blinked. "Because everyone else does."

She chuckled and approached him, her arm raised up to pat his cheek gently. "You should know better than that, Sherlock. Am I just like everyone else?" She gave a smile and turns picking up the sewing kit. His eyes watched as she waltz down the stairs to return the kit to Mrs. Hudson.

The damned brunette ran a hand through his hair, why was she so different and fascinating!?

Before returning she sent a text to him.

**With Sherlock tonight**

**Explosion**

**-H**

* * *

Helena stayed the night to make sure all was well with Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. She was a bit shaken so Helena stayed with her late into the night assuring all was fine until she went to sleep She and Sherlock stayed up, he of course never getting sleep and her to play knight. Originally Helena thought he would be investigating the explosion but he showed little to no care to the incident. The fire department outside started boarding up the windows by the time it was around 5am. Despite the loud hammering the two didn't pay much heed to the work. Helena was going to clean more up, but couldn't find the broom and duster she had before, Sherlock hid well. He himself kept busy through the night checking his severed head's saliva for his experimenting. By the time the sun started to peek through the creeks of the wood, Sherlock was done with his work.

Giving a long stretch for hovering over his microscope for so long was giving a knot in his back, probably still sore from the explosion. He had taken notice how quiet it was and got up to stride into the living room. There he found his fellow 'guard of the night' curled up in a ball sleeping on the couch. Her face buried into the pillows she was hugging. Breathing softly through her nose though a space between her lips proved to be breath through there as well. The fact her shoes were on his couch bothered him, but how many times had he stood on the poor furniture with his own?

Hypocrite.

The sound of the people outside still inspecting the building across the street could still be heard, Helena groaned at the sound of a drill like noise roaring outside. "Is it morning?" She asked rubbing her eyes.

Sherlock looked to the light creaking out and back to down bending down to her. "No, it's still dark." He told, "I'll be doing some loud experiments out here, you can sleep in my room. Just this once." He told sternly.

Helena chuckled and got up with a small stumble. "I don't care how loud just don't destroy anything." She let out a yawn as she near waddled past the kitchen down the hall. Sherlock followed her halfway through seeing her collapse onto his bed, but respectively took her shoes off. He was a bit surprised she didn't notice the head sitting on the counter, though he put it away and wandered back into the living room picking up his violin.

"I must say," Came a posh voice, Sherlock held in a groan and glanced over finding his brother glance around the room standing in the doorway. "This is indeed and 'explosion'."

"And what do I owe the welcoming of you this early in the morning?" Sherlock asked as he picked up his violin and bow taking a seat in his chair. He placed the bow beside him on the floor and got himself as comfortable as he could glaring Mycroft.

* * *

Pain. Pain was something no one wanted. It wasn't real but might as well be. Dream pain was something a bit more scary some people found compared to real pain. With real you can put an effort to making it go away. Dream, it just continues and there's no possible way to make it fade.

Brown eyes slowly opened at the sound of life outside on the streets. Cheeks red and face soaked with sweat evidence of a nightmare. It felt short now awake, but in all sense it was just slow and torturous. That damn nightmare, that damn detective. Helena noted to punch him in the arm for making her think of that, but decided against it now seeing she was in his bed.

It was such comfort this bed was, she wished to sleep in such comfort every night and wake up to the warmth of the converters. She wasn't wrapped in them now as her hoodie kept her warm enough.

"Laid around enough.." Helena groaned sitting up giving a long stretch glancing to the clock on the bedside. It was between morning and afternoon so she didn't sleep too much in. Question was when did she fall asleep? Guess it didn't matter, where was Sherlock was a better question.

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" A call echoed up the stairs. John Watson.

"Oh shit.. I never texted him." Helena sighed getting off the couch and slipping her shoes on. "Sure, text his brother but not his room mate." Her face then paused in thought struggling with her left shoe. "On the up side, he got a night at Sarah's."

With a hop off the bed and fixing it just a tad, she leaned out the room listening to John and possibly Sherlock if still there.

"I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?" Asked John's voice filled with concern.

"Hmm? What?" A pause. "Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently." A pluck of a string most likely from Sherlock's violin. "I can't."

""Can't"?" Came a third voice, one Helena knew.

"Fucking kidding me.." She rubbed her palms into her eyes leaning on the door frame.

"The stuff I've got on is just too big." More plucks from the instrument goes on as he talks. "I can't spare the time."

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of a national importance." Said Mycroft sounding impatient by Sherlock's answer.

Helena then snuck out into the kitchen, giving a wave to Sherlock who spotted her giving a loud plink! John was looking at the windows and checking for other damage not seeing her. Sherlock's eyes wandered over her then to his brother. "How's the diet?" Sherlock questions in a mock tone.

"_Fine." _He near hissed not allowing Sherlock to win at that insult.

Helena sort of slithers herself to hide between the doors of the kitchen and the door to the stairs. She didn't want Mycroft to find her here, she didn't need John and Sherlock to know of her giving information to him from her. And if John saw her- well.

"Perhaps _you_ can get through to him, John."

"What?" John was a bit preoccupied checking the damage to even listen to what the brothers were talking about. He currently was checking the dining table.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

Sherlock by now was twisting the tuners on his violin strumming the strings now and again, finding it more important than his brother's pestering. "If you're so keen, why don't _you_ investigate it?"

"No, no, no, no, no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so…" he trailed off finding the boys looking at him with interest at those words. "Well, you don't need to know about that do you?" Mycroft gives a facade smile to them, Helena rolled her eyes. "Besides, a case like this- it requires… Legwork."

A pluck of a high tune came out, Helena peeked out seeing the irritated look on Sherlock's face. She now understood why he considered him an enemy than a brother. John rubbed his neck turning around, Helena jumped out of sight, she didn't even want to be seen until Mycroft made his leave.

"How's Sarah, John?" Sherlock asked shockingly interested. "How was the lilo?"

"Sofa, Sherlock." Mycroft corrected. "It was the sofa."

Sherlock takes another look at John. "Oh yes, of course."

"How..? Oh, never mind." He took a seat at the coffee table watching the brothers. Helena pondered on just jumping out of Sherlock's window and wait outside until Mycroft left.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became" A pause. "Pals." Helena resisted to groan and just place her head against the wall, she peeked in finding Sherlock casting a dark look to Mycroft. "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine."

Helena looked around to throw something at Mycroft. "I'm never bored." John answers.

"Good! That's good, isn't it?" She glanced at the butcher knives and decided against it. "And how about that pet of yours?" Now she reconsidered eying them up.

"Pet?" John questioned.

"She's out on her walk, if you must know." Sherlock answered giving the tight pluck to a string. Helena snorted at that, but quickly covered her mouth and nose. It was silent, then Mycroft's voice returned along with footsteps.

Peeking in, Helena saw Sherlock applying rosin to his bow, Mycroft was talking to John handing him a folder thick of papers. He was telling him about a death of Andrew West, he must want Sherlock to investigate that. Her brown orbs shot to Sherlock who was just smirking at her as he was applying rosin to his bow.

"The M.O.S. is working on a new missile defense system; The Bruce-Partington Programme, it's called." His eyes shot to Sherlock as Helena hid once more. "The plans for it were on a memory stick."

The sound of John sniggering could be heard. "That wasn't very clever."

Sherlock smiled in agreement, Helena nodded at his words. "It's not the only copy." Mycroft counters. "But it _is_ secret. And missing."

"_Top_ secret?"

"Very."

At this point Helena sat down on the floor huddling her knees to her chest burying her face in them. If she left back to the room John would see her in a certain angle or Mycroft could hear her. In all honestly she wasn't all that curious to Mycroft's trouble that he wanted Sherlock to investigate. Sure, they were a major importance with missile plans and all, but taking a look at Sherlock proved he cared just as less as she did.

"You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you." He told lowly but with a smile.

Sherlock gave a sharp breath through his nose breaking eye contact on the kitchen and glancing to his brother calmly. "I'd like to see you try." He breathed out propping the precious instrument on his shoulder.

"Think it over." He gave back in a threatening like way. Mycroft turned to John who quickly stood. "Goodbye, John." They shook hands. "See you and Helena _very _soon."

Hawk gets to her feet and seeing Mycroft take his coat off the chair indicating he was indeed leaving. Finally. Sherlock delicately placed the bow on the strings and… created a irritating noise of notes on the violin. John knotted his brows giving him a look as Mycroft only grimaced at his brother's choice of goodbye. More like bugger off. Helena covered her mouth to keep from laughing as Mycroft turned and left down the stairs. Sherlock gave a last note with an annoyed look to his brother's direction then sighed lowering it off his shoulder. John took a seat once more at the table, Helena heard the footsteps fade off and decided to finally come out.

"Wow! Thought he'd never leave." She chuckled coming out of the kitchen with a smile. "Morning John,"

He blinks at her not knowing she was even here. "H-How long have you been here?"

"Oh, just came in right as you were yelling up the stairs." She sighed taking John's chair giving a short smile to Sherlock then back to John. "Sorry for not texting you about the explosion. I thought you deserve some time with Sarah."

John sighed with a weary smile. "No, everything seems… alright." He gave looking around the flat. "You weren't caught in the explosion, were you?"

"Oh no, I got your text and was coming over, but heard the loud 'boom' and came finding Sherlock-"

"All is fine." Sherlock gave giving Helena a look. Damn he didn't want John to know anything, did he?

John's attention was back at his flat mate. "Why'd you lie?"

Sherlock looks over to him as a door could be heard downstairs slam shut. "What?"

"You've got nothing on, not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding." Helena glanced over to the wall he indicated with a nod, just now noticing the smiley face in yellow. "Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

Sherlock shrugged letting his bow rub against the back of his head. "Why shouldn't I?"

John stares for a bit, then sat up straighter. "Oh!" He nods, "Oh, I see." Both eyes shoot over to him. "Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere."

Sherlock was about to retaliate on John's theory but his phone went off. He looks annoyed at first whipping his bow down beside him, fishing it from his shirt pocket and answering it. "Sherlock Holmes." After hearing the other end, his expression turns to… curious. "Of course. How could I refuse?" He hung up and got to his feet leaving his precious violin in his seat. "Lestrade." The two looked over at him. "I've been summoned. Coming?"

Sherlock walked across for his coat, John stood. "If you want me to."

"Of course." Helena stood taking the hint it was time for her to leave. "I'd be lost without my blogger and pet." She stopped in her tracks and looked to Sherlock to sent her a wink before heading down the stairs throwing his coat on.

John glanced to her as she shook her head but with a smile and walked with him down the stairs. As they called for a cab, Sherlock handed something to Helena; her cell phone. "Left it in the living room."

She groaned to herself and checked it as they climbed into the cab, one text message.

**How was the bed?**

**-MH**

* * *

Arriving at Scotland Yard, Helena realized this would be the official meeting of Greg Lestrade. Since Sherlock took care of her little crimes, she was assured by John she was fine entering the building. When they met up with him in the offices, Helena took a good look at the Detective Inspector. He had short grayish hair making him look older than Sherlock himself, dressed a bit like Sherlock though with a less tightly fit to him. He looked to be stressed or tired, but that could be the work he'd be offering Sherlock. Not as tall as Sherlock but about taller than John and her.

"Sherlock, Dr. Watson." He greeted, then looked to Helena. "Sorry, who is this?"

"Ah, that's right. You two never officially met. Lestrade this is Helena also known as Hawkeye. Hawkeye, Lestrade." Sherlock smiled as Lestrade's features contorted to shock.

"_You're_ the thief!?" Eyes wide and hands on his hips.

"That's it; yell _that_ out where they arrest said thieves. I've changed, I swear." She held a hand up as the other was over her heart. "No more stealing, I work for Sherlock now." Helena held a hand out, though John could tell she was nervous meeting the man who had been chasing her for so long. "It was a good run." She praised.

Lestrade broke his stare and gently took her hand giving a firm shake. He had no idea he was a she until the last case where she was accused to being the murderer in the Blind Banker case. But now seeing her made him understand how fast and slick she could be with her petite figure. They released hands, Lestrade taking a breath. "So, on with why I called you." He gave and nodded for the group of three to follow him through the building.

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones."

"Obviously." Sherlock answered.

"You'll _love_ this. That explosion-"

"Gas leak, yes?"

Helena noticed dark skinned woman at her desk giving a glare to Sherlock. She took note of Sherlock giving an even glare back as they passed by. But her expression was to confusion seeing Helena. None the less they continued their way, the 'pet' not caring who she was at the moment.

"No." Lestrade answered.

"No?" Now Sherlock was interested.

"No." He repeated. "Made to look like one."

"What?"

They entered Lestrade's office as Sherlock's eyes shot to a white envelope on his desk. "Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box- a very strong box- and inside it was this." He pointed to said item Sherlock stared at.

He glanced up. "You haven't opened it?"

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?"

Sherlock reached toward it. "It's doesn't have an explosion in it, does it?" Helena asked standing to Sherlock's left eying it up.

"No, we've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped." Lestrade answered.

He hesitated at those words, but went for it nonetheless. "How reassuring."

Sherlock picked up the envelope and walked across to the table in the corner that had a anglepoise lamp to take a better look at it, never taking the gloves off. The boys watched from afar seeing his brain go to work, Helena stood closer wanting to see what he could see. He held the item close to the light examining both sides, the one side had 'Sherlock Holmes' written very elegantly.

"Nice Stationery." He gave. "Bohemian."

"What?" Lestrade questioned not hearing him.

"From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?"

"No."

Helena got a vibe that he and Lestrade known each other longer than he and John had. He knew every step Sherlock would make compared to John who seemed to still be learning his own.

"She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold- iridium nib."

"She?" John asked.

"Obviously." Sherlock retorted.

"I know I never met a guy with handwriting like that." Helena gave agreeing with Sherlock.

John repeated Sherlock, trying not to sigh at him. Sherlock took the letter opener from the desk and with a delicate hand opened the letter careful of the paper and the item inside it. It was thick from what Helena has gathered making her think a bomb like device.

Sherlock dropped the opener with less care and slowly peeked inside, his lips parted at the sight and turned letting a pink iPhone slide into his hands. Helena frowned, a pink phone? Oh wait!

"But that's-" John caught on as well. "that's the phone, the pink phone."

"What, from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade indicated.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like-" His brain knocked on Lestrade's words and he turned to him. Helena turned, oh she wasn't the only reader. Her eyes found the girl from before standing in the doorway. "The Study in Pink? You read his blog?"

"'Course I read his blog!" Lestrade defended. "We all do. D'you _really_ not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?"

The woman sniggered loudly almost as if on purpose. The three look to her, two glaring; Sherlock and Helena. Sherlock for a obvious reason but Helena because it wasn't funny. Sure it was common knowledge but she discovered that must be what he and John's argument was about and knowing how Sherlock's mind worked.

"What else, Sherlock?" She asked noticing the look he gave her as she left.

He glanced to her then to the phone flipped it over back to front, front to back, and all along the sides. "Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it _look_ like the same phone, which means your blog," He slightly spat to John. "has a far wider readership."

"So why a phone? Is it just as a little joke?" Helena asked as Sherlock tapped the button to activate it.

"_You have one new message. Pip, pip, pip, pip, pi-p"_

Helena frowned along with John at that. Though no one, not even Sherlock says a thing, almost all were confused, but John heard nothing else with the tilt of his head. "Is that it?" He asks.

"No." Sherlock answered staring at the phone. "That's _not _it."

A ping came from a phone along with a photo. John and Helena leaned in to see the picture as Sherlock tilted the side to get a better look. An unfurnished room with a fireplace centered in the middle to the wall. Ugly wallpaper peeling with obvious signs of mold and even a chunk of tile leaning on the left corner. Lestrade came over to look at the photo himself, he was just as confused as the other two.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that?" He questioned. "An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!"

"It's a warning." Sherlock told though he was gazing out in deep thought. He knew something the others didn't, as usual.

"A warning?" John asked.

He took a breath and looked to them. "Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips." Helena's mind clicked in giving Sherlock the sign that she was in the same speed as him. "They're warning us it's gonna happen again." He looked back down at the photo the suddenly darted out to leave the office. "And I've seen this place before."

"H-Hang on, what's gonna happen again?" John asked following right after with Helena and Lestrade.

All Sherlock's response was- "Boom!"

* * *

The four arrived back to Baker Street, two of the four didn't understand why here and just assumed Sherlock had to get something. But instead of going up the stairs, they went down the hall pass Mrs. Hudson's door and to the left that lead to a basement flat. Helena remembers Mrs. Hudson mentioned it before that when Sherlock moved in he had a quick look but wasn't that impressed by it. She could tell he wasn't a fixer upper type, didn't blame him. The room was 221c.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock called out loudly making Helena jump a bit being right beside him where he turned to. The hall was growing crowded to her so she went off to get Mrs. Hudson and some air.

With a short explanation; Sherlock wanted the door unlocked to see inside. She gladly gets the keys and follows her out, Sherlock has been staring- no examining the padlock waiting for the keys. Mrs. Hudson handed the keys to him,

"You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat." Helena could tell Sherlock was once again ignoring her wanting to get inside as he sped himself with the keys to the padlock and door lock.

"The door's been opened recently." Sherlock addressed as he got the padlock off with a bit of force.

Mrs. Hudson looked at him absurdly. "No, can't be. That's the only key." Sherlock handed the padlock to Helena as he went through the keys and worked on the keyhole. "I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements." She suddenly turned to Helena with a smile. "You should take a look to live here, the boys would love that!"

The Hawk blinked at her sudden suggestion. "Oh, t-thank you Mrs. Hudson. I have a place that suits me well."

John took a glance to the women hearing part of the conversation. Sherlock by then had the door unlocked and slunk in as Mrs. Hudson was starting her innocent chatting ear off mode. "I had a place once when I was first married. Black mold all up the walls…"

The last two men followed after, trailing Mrs. Hudson off. "Oh! Men!" She huffed and left back to her flat, Helena smiled and shook her head going in with the boys.

Inside, Helena expected it to be as empty as it was in the photo. It was, but the pair of sneakers in the middle proved to be not so empty. The four stared at the them, John stating the obvious, "Shoes." just above a whisper.

Helena looked around for cameras, mics, wires- anything in case the place was rigged. Her ears heard only the breathing of John and Lestrade alone with the floor creaking to someone's movement. Her eyes shot over seeing Sherlock daring to approach the foot wear.

"He's a bomber, remember." John pointed out making Sherlock pause for a moment, then continue with his careful steps.

Sherlock crouches own, places his hands on the floor, and leaned forward to scan over the sneakers in case there was a bomb on or inside them. Everyone holds their breath, Helena was about to take a step when a loud ringing echoed out. It was enough to make Sherlock give a small jump at that, he closed his eyes with a silent sigh cursing mentally at that. John jumped as well, Helena just bit her lip and took a step back to her spot pretending the tension wasn't even there. The tall detective stood back up, pulling the pink phone out reading the screen. NUMBER BLOCKED. The bomber no doubt?

None the less Sherlock swiped the screen and pressed the speaker button. Sherlock gave a soft "Hello?"

A shaky breath responds back, scared and upset. "H-Hello… Sexy." Came a shaky woman's voice. Helena moved closer seeing the number blocked but listened in. John and Lestrade gave one another a puzzled look, that obviously was not the bomber. But who?

"Who's this?" Sherlock questioned as a small sob came from the device.

"I've… sent you.. a little puzzle…" She gave another small sob, Helena glanced to the other two then back at Sherlock who just stared at the phone. "...just to say hi."

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

A breath was taken. "I-I'm not… crying… I'm typing.."

Helena's mind then clicked it together. She turned to them mouthing 'hostage' to them. John's shoulders tensed as he rubbed a hand down his face. Lestrade shook his head and continued to listen.

"...an this… stupid… bitch… is reading it out." The only female in the room bit her knuckle not liking those choice of words. The bastard.

The woman sobbed softly into the phone as Sherlock was now gazing thoughtfully at the wall. "The curtain rises."

"What?" John questions not properly hearing him, Helena rose a brow at his words.

"Nothing."

"No, what did you mean?" John urged wanting to know.

"Curtain rises?" Helena repeated at him bringing her hand down to her side now done abusing her knuckle between her teeth.

Sherlock turns his head halfway at them. "I've been expecting this for some time."

The woman's voice returns with another sob and a deep breath. Sherlock turns back raising the phone back up. "Twelve hours to solve… my puzzle, Sherlock… or I'm going… to be… so naughty." The line goes dead, Helena's heart almost gives a skip in pain for the woman.

"...Now what do we do?" John questions.

"I think now we just," Helena looked to them. "Do what Sherlock does best." The two looked at her then to him, she turned as he just stared at the sneakers. "He want's Sherlock to solve this, just him and him alone."

She made her way across to the door, Sherlock glanced over. "Wait, where are you going?" John asked taking a step over.

Helena looked at the three with brows up. "Like I said, Sherlock has to solve it." She shrugged raising her hands up. "I got nothing on this one. Let me know how it goes though." With a wink and a wave, Helena was out the door.

John blinked, it almost seemed-

"Lestrade, I'll be looking these over at St. Barts." He informed.

* * *

"So he can handle this one?" Trevor asked walking on the higher steps arms stuck out to keep his balance.

"I think so," Hawk answered walking ahead of him on the same level as him. Though her hands were shoved in her pockets and hood over her head. "He'll text me if anything pops up. But in this situation, I think it's too risky to rely on others."

"Makes sense. He has done it before alone, right?" He asked, "I mean, it's not like- Woah!" Hawk turned reaching out grabbing the collar of his jacket pulling his balance back. "Thanks." He gave sighing as he looked under the highway.

Helena crouched then jumped down, and looked up to Trevor. "Was it here?" She asked as he struggled a bit to climb down not wanting to break his legs at the height of the wall to the ground.

"A-A little always. Oof!" He grunted as he fell to the ground trying to land on his feet. She just shook her head at him with a grin. "Wouldn't it be great to have with the cold weather growing?"

"Indeed," She agreed as he got to his feet and led her under the highway. "I just need to check to make sure it's alright and safe. Also no critters taken a home to it."

"If so?" He questioned going around a large pillar.

"Then we can't take it." She informed and followed around seeing it's glory. "Ah, perfect!" She grinned jogging to the steel triangular outdoor chimney. It had its age and seemed to just been thrown out here along with other trash around that Trevor was currently looking at.

"Alright, anybody home?" She knocked on the side earning an echo from inside, waited, nothing flew or ran out nor any sounds inside. "Looks like it's up for a buy." Hawk went into her back pocket pulling out her mini torch and clicking it on. "Now an inspection."

Trevor was a good few feet away frowning at some torn up small bits of furniture and once was worth to have clothing. "It's a shame there's nothing more here, eh, Hawkeye?"

"What-"

**BOOM!**

* * *

Sherlock had spent a good amount of hours to examine and collect what ever information he can on these shoes. John watched from afar, knowing not to give his opinion on anything. He sure hoped Helena had joined, getting used to her company with him and Sherlock. Though showing concern was a mistake he apparently made with the detective as he showed no concern on the hostage.

It wasn't until he heard Sherlock say, "Pass me my phone?"

His eyes wandered around the room, where did he leave it? "Where is it?"

"Jacket."

John looks at him, almost a mix of disbelief and annoyance. Now he really wished Helena was here, imagining her going to get his phone and maybe teasing him by sneaking his wallet off him. But alas, he was stuck here alone with him. Without a word, the doctor marched around the table clapping his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and started to search for the found, and not too gently.

"Careful." Sherlock gave showing he was a bit temperamental by the rough rummaging.

John bites his tongue reminding himself it wouldn't be worth it to punch him… not now at least. But he succeeds in getting the phone and reading the message. "Text from your brother-"

"Delete it." Sherlock demands without hesitation.

"Delete it?"

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it." Sherlock explains.

John looks down at the message again.

**Any progress on Andrew**

**West's death? **

**-Mycroft.**

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eig-nine times. Must be important." He tells looking through the other text, one catches his eye.

**Is your pet on that leash?**

**-Mycroft**

His brows furrowed, who was this pet?

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" Sherlock questioned finally looking away from his microscope.

John only released a tired sigh, but asked anyway. "His what?"

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story." He took a breath. "The only mystery is this; why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?" His eyes focused back into the microscope ending the conversation.

John licked his lips and bit the bottom one looking back down at the phone, turning it off placing it on the table. "Try and remember there's a woman here who might die."

"What for?" Sherlock looked up at John, somehow looking equally annoyed as the doctor. "This hospital is full of people dying, Doctor." He near spat. "Why don't you go and cry by _their _bedside and see what good it does them?"

John was now physically restraining himself to hit Sherlock after that. He turned away in complete disbelief by his words. Now he really _really_ wished Helena was here.

Though with Sherlock's phone off, he would soon find 3 more messages. One from Mycroft, two from Hawkeye.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Wow, I never seen a story earn so many followers and favorites since my Prussia story! Hope you guys are really enjoying the story. I sort of struggle at times because I don't wanna fuck anything up. Seriously, you guys keep me going! I'm gonna try and shorten the chapters a bit to about 15 pages, they are 20 when I write it and I think they are a bit too long as I only have 8 chapters and want more of those. Plus I'd release them faster if only 15 pages. Enjoy the story remember to review!**_

* * *

"Any luck?" Came a female voice.

"Oh, yes!" Sherlock gave as the girl known as Molly came over to look at the screen. John moved to Sherlock's other side, the door squeaked opened again, a male who the two never seen before peeked in.

"Oh, sorry I didn't…" He gave ready to leave.

"Jim! Hi!" Molly beamed as he is about to leave but she moves first. "Come in! Come in!" Sherlock looks at him, then Molly for a second, and back to his work as he entered and near cautiously walks over to the group. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes."

Jim gives a "Ah!" with a smile as if he just met a celebrity. His eyes just looked, mesmerized at Sherlock.

Molly looks to John, but only gives a blank look. "And, uh… Sorry.."

The poor man just sighed with a weak smile. "John Watson. Hi."

"Hi." Jim gave, but never breaking eye contact at the back of Sherlock's messy curly head. "So _you're_ Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" He takes a chance to get closer by John just about forcing him out of the way.

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met." Molly told smile still there. "Office romance."

The couple giggle at the 'fond' memory. Sherlock glances only briefly as needed to Jim before turning back and proclaiming, "Gay."

"Sorry, what?" Molly questioned her smile now dying.

Sherlock raised his head, replaying what he has just said. "Nothing." He covered and gave a false smile to Jim. "Um, hey."

Jim smiled back. "Hey-" The loud clatter of the metal dish Jim knocked down somehow made the tension grow worse. Sherlock looks up irritated as John just presses his palm to his forehead. "Sorry! Sorry!" John now wasn't the only one wishing Helena was here to cut the tension with her smart remarks. Jim soon gathered the dish and small items that fell as well and placed it back on the table.

"Well, I better be off." He gave giving his arm a scratch and moved to Molly who smiled as he approached. "I'll see you at The Fox, 'bout six-ish?"

"Yeah!"

He paused placing a hand on Molly's back, but eyes still on Sherlock. "Bye." Molly whispered a bye to him back, but clearly it was to Sherlock. "It was nice to meet you."

Seeing Sherlock refused to respond, John jumps in to break the silence. "You too."

Jim nods to him awkwardly and leaves the room. Molly looks back at the door, once closed she shots to Sherlock. "What'd you mean, gay? We're together." She accused.

The detective looked over. "And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you." He told, looking back again.

"Two and a half."

"Hm, three."

"Sherlock…" John warned.

"He's _not_ gay." Molly told anger in her tone. "Why d'you have to spoil- He's _not_."

John mentally groaned, where is Helena when he needs her?

* * *

"Come on…"

Why couldn't he just call the number? Oh yeah, she told him not to. Was he texting the right one? She told him before the doctors pulled her into the room to text John, not Sherlock. He took it that he was busy with the case and needed to work on it without her getting in the way. But still.. why wasn't anyone responding? His eyes looked over the sent message,

**at emergency room**

**please come asap**

**-friend of hawk**

Trevor had sent the same text at least every hour. He didn't know what was more nerve crushing; the time Helena spent in the emergency room or the fact no one was responding to the text.

Deciding the pacing only made him feel worse and earn a few stares, he plopped into a chair and held the phone tightly in his hands, head bent down. "..Please be okay."

* * *

Back at Baker Street, Sherlock had finally solved the puzzle and just finished his call to Lestrade on the location of the hostage. He was now collecting the papers from the kitchen as John undid his tie finding it tighten around his neck from that tension of the final three hours. He looked to Sherlock's phone at the table as it read 'six new messages'.

"Sherlock, you have-"

"Mycroft no doubt." He cut off making a pile -a messy one- by the sink where the laces hunt. "Delete them for me?"

John sighed, "Sure." Not like Sherlock would do it himself. But when he saw the sender, he looked up. "These are from Helena."

The detective paused, six messages from Helena. accidental spam or just trying to waste her minutes on the phone to tease him about something. "When were they sent?"

"...Let's see, it looks like every hour, some even 30 minutes on the dot. Most recent was.. ten minutes ago." John opened it up, his face dropped reading the words. "...Sherlock.."

He turned seeing John go over and reveal the screen to him.

**at emergency room**

**hawk was badly injured**

**accident**

**please come**

**asap**

**-friend of hawk**

Accident? Badly Injured? Sherlock's mind spun around in his mind palace, what could've caused her to get badly hurt, make it an accident, and sent to the emergency room.

"Jesus Christ!" Barked John shoving the phone at Sherlock's hands. "This whole time we thought it was Mycroft turned out to be-"

"Hurry, John." Sherlock stated grabbing his coat and scarf and rushing down the stairs. John got his jacket and followed without hesitations.

* * *

The two jogged into the emergency room, John instantly went to the desk. "Excuse me, as someone taken in for an emergency about six hours ago?"

The woman behind the desk looked through the papers, and saw the times of any patients that entered. "Yes, she's currently resting in recovery.." She looked to the tall man. "Um, are you Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?" The man nodded, she reached into her desk drawer and placed a cell on the counter; Helena's cell phone. "The boy who was with her asked me to give this to you. He said he couldn't stay."

"Thank you," Sherlock quickly told snatching the phone and inspecting it.

"What happened to her?" John asked.

The girl shrugged, "It was a bit of all of a hectic scene." She told leaning on the counter. "The boy who left the phone brought her here, she was covering her face, I know I saw blood though."

Sherlock spotted it, blood on the back of her phone, no doubt her own. "Where was she bleeding from?"

"The face, eyes most likely. I'm not all that informed on cause of these things. The boy was in such hysterics though and kept crying 'sorry' as she was taken to get examined. I informed him she would undergo a small surgery." She explained.

"Thanks, can we, um, see her?"

"Well, I'll see if she's awake-"

Sherlock came over, "Just give us the room number and we'll see for ourselves." He demanded.

John hadn't expected Sherlock to jump at that, determined to see her. Then again, John looked back at when she was accused of the arrest, he was just as worried but Sherlock was at his own level. The nurse soon was 'convinced' to give the men the room number and Sherlock took lead down the hall to find the elevator. John looked over keeping up, he decided to speak his mind.

"Bleeding from the face, did she get attacked or in a fight?"

"The nurse said from the eyes most likely, Helena wouldn't risk anything of her eye sight, they are the most valuable tool to her that she would never throw away the sense over a fight." Sherlock told as he pressed the up button for the elevator. "She also mentioned being taken to surgery, I'd imagine something was in her eyes damaging enough to cause possible bleeding."

John crossed his arms, trying to think of any reasons bleeding would occur by or at her eyes. As a doctor he wanted to figure this out as much as Sherlock did. He can't determine it until he gets a look at her and her story on what happened. The elevator 'pinged!' and the doors opened, they both walked in, Sherlock pressing three.

"Well, if not a fight then what?" John asked.

"Something else." Sherlock couldn't say what, he needed to check her out first, her face, skin, clothing; anything to get a clue. With the puzzle solved his mind now focused on this concern.

Once they reached the floor, the ding of the doors opening giving them the call, Sherlock and John took a left down a few doors and found her's. John took a breath, as a doctor he always was prepared for these things. But friend's hurt, it still gave him chills to see someone he knew get badly injured. Sherlock slowly opened the door, thankfully no creaking as he walked in, John behind him.

Though what was inside was not a soul; the bed laid empty with blanket a bit of a mess. John sighed and walked in to search in case she was trying to escape like last time. Sherlock strolled in calmly eyes scanning everywhere. The bed wasn't in a rash hurry, but it was gently unfolded off of the occupant. The IV stand was gone so she took it with her, with windows sealed shut he exterminated the idea of her climbing out. In fact Sherlock was sure she didn't even leave the room or building, his eyes shot to the bathroom door shut.

"Where has she gone?" John asked after checking the windows, he looked to his companion and noticed his gazing at the door. Said Doctor approached the door and knocked on it. "Helena? Are you in there? It's John Watson." He informed waiting for a response.

Sherlock determined if she was under surgery for her eyes, no chance she would be able to see anything. He joined next to john, "Helena, we heard what happened, it'd be safer if you came out."

Some silence made the two think maybe she wasn't in there, Sherlock knew she was. Soon the lock clicked, making the boys back up for the door to open. John took in the sight putting a hand over his face, Sherlock just looked her over with his deduction. It was hard with the hospital gown and clean for the doctors to work on her. But seeing her head wrapped over her eyes now blinding her of sight broke one of their hearts.

She turned back and forth, not hearing a sound thinking they were gone. Sure she had her other senses but the pain meds and drugs weren't helping as she leaned on her IV pole the rolled next to her.

"...Sherlock..?" She called, he took a step indicating where he was, she turned to his direction. "You weren't supposed to be here."

John looked between the two, she actually doesn't want him here? Sherlock furrowed his brows at this, in a way he understand but couldn't figure why. "..Why?" He asked.

Helena growled and swung her hand at him succeeding in slapping his arm, he stepped back at that. "You have that puzzle to solve! That text was to be for John to come and him only!"

"Wait, Helena." She turned to John. "Sherlock just solved it a bit ago, it's alright. Hostage is being taken care of with Scotland Yard."

She paused and turned back, "...Well then." Helena gulped and took a hesitate step, wanting to get back to bed. "Guess I should say sorry, but let's just blame the drugs." She waved off as the boys watched her find her way to the bed. They both would've offered help but know her well enough she wouldn't need it unless asked.

"How did this happen? What happened to cause.." John asked going to the bedside, Helena crawled into the bed and sighed at the slight comfort.

"I honestly don't know." She shrugged crossing her arms.

Sherlock looked around, "Where are your clothes?" He looked up seeing Helena try to raise a brow facing him. Realizing his mistake of asking someone who was temporarily blind, he decided to search himself. The look John gave helped him gain the hint.

"John?"

"Yeah?" He turned back to her, seeing Sherlock look through the cabinets in the corner of her right.

"..I was wondering if like before… I can just stay at the flat?" Her hands fell to her lap huddling her knees up. "If alright, of course I trust you more than doctors I can't see." She chuckled a bit.

John smiled and patted her arm, "Of course, Helena. In fact, I want to ask about the damage and what was needed for surgery."

"I wouldn't call it surgery." Helena waved off wishing to roll her eyes. "They said there was things in my eyes that was causing the bleeding. It hurt like hell just to move my eyes under my lids, scared me to bits."

Sherlock found her clothing in a paper bag, he came back over. "I'll examine your clothing when we get back. John, go talk with the doctors-"

"Sherlock, can you do it?" She spoke, the both of them shooting over to her. She smiled, "You have a way of convincing people. Not that John does, but I don't want to trouble him too much with me."

Seeming a lame excuse, Sherlock nodded and left the room none the less, but with hesitation. Now it was just John and Helena. The Doctor looked back over, "Is.. everything alright?"

Helena nodded, "Yeah, no offence Sherlock is just faster with these things."

John squinted at her, "...Do you know how this happened?"

"Yes.. and no."

"Yes and no?"

A sigh escaped her lips as she hung her head. "I know where it happened and sort of what happened. What caused it to happen and why it did to me, I don't know. Telling Sherlock this, I don't want him trying to figure it out. It was just a small accident on my part."

"The accident was?"

John looked over, Helena groaned rolling her head back. Sherlock hadn't left, John didn't notice and Helena's senses were still off. "Damn you."

"What happened Helena." This time it wasn't a question, it was a near demand. She can hear him come to her right side, she turned away despite not able to look him in the eye. "...Helena-"

"Sherlock-" John warned.

"What happened to you."

Helena didn't say a word, her mouth ran dry and licking her lips didn't help. She laid back into the bed and turned away from Sherlock facing John, ignoring his words. Sherlock stared at her, eyes piercing into her head, seeing it wasn't fazing her he left the room in a near huff. John watched him leave shutting the door, he leaned over seeing he was indeed gone this time.

"He's gone." John assured her.

Helena sighed and nodded confirming she wasn't ignoring him. He decides not to ask her about the situation, maybe the drugs were starting to take a deeper effect. "When did you wake up?"

"Can't say, feels like an hour now.. But I really just want to sleep." She admitted, fingers toying with the sheets.

John chuckled not blaming her for being tired. He chatted with her to help keep her awake, at times she would drift off, having her eyes wrapped probably didn't help to stay awake. Sherlock returned with the man who performed on her, seeing her possibly asleep he took John out on the hall to talk with him as well.

"I'm Doctor John Watson." He introduced himself giving the other medical man a hand shake.

"Are you her personal doctor?" He asked

"Yes, so um," John folded his arms. "What was the damage?"

The doctor sighed, which could be a bad or horrible sign. "It's a complete mystery what happened." Not what he asked, but it's a start. "She came in crying in pain, a lot of blood. Not enough to cause complications, but it was a good amount to her face." Sherlock listened intently, for any details he may need. "She looked to have been burned, as if something… exploded in her face. Her clothing was a bit black, possibly soot or burnt from it. We had to remove bits of embers from her eyes.." He gave a scratch to his forehead, John shook his head. "Oh but, the bleeding was from around the eyes, not the eyes themselves."

"Oh, that's a relief." John patted his chest, "But still, embers… What was she doing? Did.. Tre-Trevor was it?"

"I never caught the boy's name. But my nurse just kept saying he was sorry, over and over."

John glanced to Sherlock who was mentally cursing, still unknown what she was doing. "Well, if permitted I can take care of her. Any medications she needs?"

"Pain meds if she is feeling a headache or her eyes are hurting. She won't need any bandages rewrapped until I give a date to have them removed. Once I do, we'll have them removed and see how her recovery went." he explained and gave a paper copy of her forums to John.

"Thanks," he nods leaving the two men, John walks over to Sherlock who was watching the sleeping Helena through the window. "So," He took a breath. "you're going to investigate this, aren't you."

Sherlock didn't answer, John knew it so it wasn't needed to be said. It was an obvious yes.

* * *

The next morning was growing as evental as last night. The boys were at Scotland Yard to hear Lestrade's word on the victim. He expected Helena to arrive with them, John informed she was injured and is resting at the flat. Surprisingly despite the bad dispute the two had as criminal and 'cop', she send his get wells to her. He saw good in her, plus she seemed to at times annoy Sherlock so it was worth it.

Sherlock himself stored Helena's 'case' to his storage of his mind palace and reopened this current one. Fingers pressed together and raised in front of his mouth, though his fingers tapped a bit impatiently. When was the next to come? John was at the desk listening to Lestrade.

"She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house." Lestrade explained looking up at Sherlock who walked over to the desk. "Told her to phone _you_. She had to read out from this" He placed the same device the woman had when they found her onto his desk. "pager."

John picked it up looking it over in his hands. "And if she deviated by one word, a sniper would set her off." Sherlock concluded, only to have John add in, "Or if you hadn't solved the case."

Sherlock wandered over to the window, speaking softly at this. "Oh. Elegant." He could see it all know, remembering the words used towards him.

"'Elegant'?" John questioned with a sigh.

"But what was the point? Why would anyone _do_ this?" Lestrade questioned, finding this whole thing to be a sick game. Sure people have threatened Sherlock before or shown hate towards him. But this was a whole nother level.

"Oh- I can't be the only person in the world who gets bored."

"You're right."

Heads shot to the doorway, Sergeant Donovan stood there but not alone. A smile on her face as if she knew the looks she was receiving was amusing, which she assured they were from the silence in the room. Dressed in a red button down, blue jeans, boots, and a leather jacket substituting her hoodie, Helena glanced to her left. "They are in this room right, or is there a recording to fool me?" She joked.

"N-No, we're here." John assured standing to his feet. He was shocked to see her, why was she here? Blind and just out of the hospital- "How did you get here!?"

"Ah, Sherlock." She told as she stepped confidently into the room finding a chair in front of her, just her luck. Helena sat down with a grunt, "He gave me the directions, though I found a faster route. Shame on you, traffic is always down around this time."

Sherlock grinned at her, "Apologies." Noticing the looks the two men, even Donovan still there gave him. "...Trouble?" He questioned with a raised brow.

"Yea, a few.." Lestrade muttered.

Helena smiled in his direction, "There you are. Sorry for cutting in on your investigation. Sherlock left me a voicemail to come here when I woke up."

John took the moment to drag Sherlock out of the office as Lestrade talked with her. The door shut, Helena 'assuming' Donovan left. "What the hell were you thinking? Telling someone who is recovering from an accident and can't see a thing to come all the way here by herself?"

Sherlock sighed at John, "She is fully capable of handling herself, she's proven it before and she can again."

"This is different." He hissed.

"How is it different?"

"She can't bloody see!" John barked, earning looks from the people around. He rubbed his fingers against his palms giving a glance around then to Sherlock.

"Does Helena look like the type to sit by and wait? No, she would be wandering out trying to jump roof tops if not with us."

John raised a hand to stop him, "Alright, she isn't _that _bad. She's not like.." Eying Sherlock who giving him a look, damn she was like him. Can't deny that. "Okay, fine. But what if 'something' happens?"

"I'll handle that." He told sternly, John had his doubts.

Back in the office, Lestrade couldn't help stare at the bandages covering Helena's eyes. She tended to turn her head to any noise she heard outside the office, but kept her focus on him. Mostly the question she was sure he wanted to ask. "Said you had a few questions." Helena motioned at him. "Well, bring them on."

"I-I don't want to pry or anything."

"Oh go on! I dare you, infact I double dog." She teased the smile still there. "Wanna go for triple?"

Lestrade couldn't help but chuckle, she was a spitfire. "Alright, what happened?"

"Can't tell." She could sense his frown, "No I really couldn't if I wanted.. wait, is Sherlock in the room?" Her head turned around as if trying to hear him anywhere.

"No, John and him are outside the office." Lestrade informed her.

"Okay, you have to promise not to tell Sherlock." Helena was pointing a finger at him pretty accurately.

"I won't ask why, but um, sure." Lestrade shrugged leaning his elbows on his desk.

Helena released a small sigh and took in some air, "So-"

"Helena."

"Damnit." Lestrade cursed to himself as Sherlock entered just as she was to tell him.

She simply chuckled turning to him, "Yes?"

"Helena, please explain to John you are perfectly capable of keeping up with us during this whole thing?" He inquired as John came up behind him.

"Well don't start shoving words into her mouth." John protested going to Helena's other side, she was now sandwiched between them.

"I was stating exactly what you said. You want her to confirm of this, don't you?"

"Yes, but I don't want her to say yes and you just expect her to jump through any hoop you give her."

"Alright!" Helena yelled standing up now blocking the both of them. "John is my doctor… sort of," She shrugged. "so I understand him wanting me to stay at the flat and just rest during my recovery. Sherlock is my boss….. kind of not in a way." She tried to give. "If he needs me he can't exactly contact me, now can he? And he when I was hurt before going with you guys on that banker case did help. Maybe it will this time. Worth a shot."

The three men were silent, she had so many valid points, how could anyone argue. Well, John could but he didn't want to start World War III in Greg's office.

The silence was taken down though when a phone alert came from Sherlock's coat pocket. He fished out the infamous pink phone seeing a new message. Sliding the screen the four earn a "You have one new message."

Just as before, the sounds of the pips come alive, but three short and one long. A sign, a good and bad one though.

"Four pips." John indicated.

"First test passed, it would seem. Here's the second." Sherlock turned the phone showing the three the new photo. A car, the front of a car, license plate visible and driver's car opened.

Helena chewed her lip, "Ahem, um?"

Lestrade forgot for a brief moment of her blindness, Sherlock handed him the phone as he stood. "Oh, it's a car, the.. front view of it with a license plate in plain view and… driver's door ajar." He described.

"It's abandoned, wouldn't you say?"

"I'll see if it's been reported." Lestrade picked up his phone at his desk.

"What's in the background?" She instantly asked looking in his direction.

"Hard to tell, it's mostly of the car." John told.

"Freak," Donovan called from the now open door way. "it's for you." She almost sounded… surprised a phone call was for him? At least that's what it sounded to Helena who just tried to scowl in her direction.

Sherlock walked over taking the phone and left to the general office as John takes his seat once more. He kept his eyes on Sherlock watching him take the phone call, Helena looked downwards. "The bomber."

John stood with Helena following holding into the back of his jacket to not lose him. Concern was obvious on John's face, with Helena's half covered it was hard to tell. They heard Sherlock ask, "And you've stolen another voice, I presume."

"This is about you and me." A man, Helena can here from where they stood. a man who sounded as distressed as the female hostage but still kept his voice as leveled.

"Who _are_ you?... What's that noise?"

Helena instantly went over, her hand reaching for his coat to find him, Sherlock turned to her and she motioned to lower the phone so she could hear the background. Cars… people walking by talking…. wind… horns beeping.

"The sounds of life, Sherlock." The voice replied. Sherlock put the phone back to his ear, earning a nod from her. "But don't worry... I can soon fix that." The voice shuddered. "You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time time you have eight."

Helena's heart drop, not one of _those._ As the puzzles end, the timer draws shorter.

"Okay. Great." Greg came by yelling, "We've found it!" to the trio as Sherlock heard the dial tone.

"..Sherlock?" Helena heard Greg and John go on ahead, she heard another leave hoping they didn't just leave her there.

Sherlock pocketed the phone and grabbed Helena's hand taking her with them. She was not expecting the sudden jolt into the walk but managed to keep up with him well. It was warm and she felt highly secured by his hold, she held back tightly as to not fall.. of course.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Pretty happy with myself right now! Just pre-ordered The Imitation Game on DVD. It was on a sale from 29.99 to 17.69 so total win! Also I never got to see the movie in theaters because of family complications for my mom to see it with me (who also loves Benedict) and no one else wanted to see it with me. Yeah, could've gone alone but work and help at home kept me from it. But I can see it finally WOO! Enjoy this chapter of Auburn Sky!**_

* * *

The car ride was a silent one, Helena just faced the window as if she could see the sights before her. John saw it, the act she was upholding to Sherlock and this was exactly what he was worried about. There are times when a person becomes immobile or temporarily handicapped, and would try to live there day to day lives as if nothing happened. Helena was doing just that. Sitting in the back with Sherlock and John at the window to Sherlock's left, riding in Greg's car with Donovan in the passenger's seat.

At the location where the car was found, Helena can already smell the sea water near by hearing boats to confirm how close they were. But no cars drove by, so she assumed it was a near abandoned location. Lestrade lead them to the car that indeed matched the photo, Sherlock tailing ahead with Lestrade still holding Helena's hand, Donovan trailing behind John pestering him on something.

"The car was hired yesterday morning by Ian Monkford. Banker of some kind; City boy. Paid in cash." Lestrade told from the notes in his hands. He bent under the police tape, Sherlock pressed his hand to her back indicating her to duck under it with him. "Told his wife he was going away on a business trip, but never arrived."

They stop at the passenger door, Sherlock releasing his hold on Helena's hand to start inspecting it. He leaned in finding a good amount of blood smeared over the two front seats.

She stood by and turned to Lestrade, giving a sniff. "Blood?" Sherlock opened the glove box searching through.

"Yeah, before you asked, yes, it's Monkford's blood. DNA Checks out." He informed.

The detective pulls himself out standing straight at the two. "No body."

"Not yet." Donovan gave making Helena step to the side not hearing her approach, was John near?

"Get a sample sent to the lab." Lestrade nodded at Sherlock's request as Sherlock took Helena's hand once more and lead her to John, as she held his know. Helena could tell it was him so she held just as tight following the boys.

"Mrs. Monkford?" Sherlock asked, now approaching the newly widowed wife.

She turned to him looking she was just tired from crying and greatly upset on this scene. "Yes? Sorry, but I've already spoken with two policemen."

"No, we're not from the police." John tried to assure. "We're-"

Sherlock cut him off with, "Sherlock Holmes." sticking his hand out to her offering a handshake. "Very old friend of your husband's. We, um…"

Helena refrained from frowning. Ah, just like the banker case to get into the flat. Despite blind, she played along reaching from John to Sherlock holding his arm, nodding. "We three grew up together, Helena." She added, not bothering to give a handshake.

The woman was confused. "I'm sorry, who?" She almost sounded offended by this claim. "I don't think he ever mentioned you."

"Oh, he _must_ have done." Sherlock urged patting Helena's hand seeing her catch on. "This is.." He took in some air. "this is horrible, isn't it?" John just looked away at this, not believing Helena was pulling herself in on this as well… Okay, he did sort of believe her. "I mean, we just can't believe it."

"No.." Helena shuddered out, padding the side of her head feeling the bandages. "I'm blessed to not see the sight but…"

Sherlock nodded to her, "We only met with him the other day, didn't we sweetheart?" Helena nodded giving a sniffle. She was so lucky she didn't need tears for this. "Same old Ian, not a care in the world."

By this time Mrs. Monkford was starting to become distraught at the two. "Sorry but my husband has been depressed for months. Who _are_ you?" The two continued on though.

"Really strange that he hired a car. Why would he do that?" He asked looking down at Helena, a tear streaking down his cheek.

"That wasn't like him at all. It's just a tad suspicious." She agreed nodding her head.

John took note at the glare she was giving the two. "No, it isn't. He forgot to renew the tax on the car, that's all." She defended.

Helena gave a weary small laugh, "Oh, that was just like him."

"That was Ian all over!" He nodded letting a sigh out.

"No it wasn't!"

"Wasn't it?" Sherlock's tone and face dropped back to it's usual features, now he got her to catch on. "Interesting."

He took Helena's hand and turned leading her away John trailing behind. Woman glaring at the back of their heads, he lead Helena under the police tape and let her hold onto his coat.

"Why did you lie to her?" John asked the both of them.

Sherlock took his gloves off wiping the tears off his cheek and under his eyes; child's play. "People don't like telling you things, but they love to contradict you." He gave a sniff, "Past tense, did you notice?"

"Sorry, what?" John inquired.

"We referred to her husband in the past tense. She joined in. Bit premature, they've only just found the car." Sherlock explained, still wiping any wetness he missed on his face.

"I just wanted to follow along for the fun." Helena snickered, "But I see what you mean. Just the way she sounded was off on it's own."

"You think she murdered her husband?"

"Definitely not. That's not a mistake a murderer would make."

"I see…. no, I don't."

"At least you're honest John." Helena smiled.

John gave her a quick look. "What am I seeing?"

"Fishing!" Called Donovan's voice making Helena let go of Sherlock by accident turning to the voice. "Try fishing!" John gave a honest nod to let her off his back and took Helena's arm to lead her with them once more.

"Where to now, Sherlock?" Helena asked.

"Janus Cars." He handed a card to John. "Just found this in the glove compartment."

John read it to himself then handed it back to Sherlock. "You feeling alright to keep going?" He asked Helena.

"Oh yea, I can go on for days." She beamed. "Just keep me from falling on my face, and I'll live."

Helena heard no word from Sherlock, her mind wasn't as silent as his lips. Fresh doubts of her slowing them down or being in Sherlock's way rose to her. With a shake of her head, Helena wanted to block them out. She had to prove to him she wouldn't stay down because of this.

_"Helena, please explain to John you are perfectly capable of keeping up with us during this whole thing?"_

The words burned into her head, she could hear them over and over again. She can keep up, and will.

* * *

"_Are you sure you want her in your bed? I can always take the couch." John told helping her up the stairs as Sherlock walked ahead opening the door to them._

"_Nonsense, I'll take the couch. Not to mention you're room is upstairs, can't have her fall down the stairs, can we?" He moved aside as John got Helena into the flat._

"_Got a point." John agreed as Sherlock shut the door and removed his coat and scarf tossing them onto the couch._

"_I'll take her from here." Sherlock offered taking a hold of her arm, John let go allowing him to pick Helena up with ease. She gasped no longer on her feet and clung to Sherlock's shirt. _

"_Gentle Sherlock, she is still half awake." John reminded him seeing her react._

_He nodded and left past the kitchen to his room as John walked up to his room tired of the now late night. Sherlock informed on going to Scotland Yard tomorrow morning, but assured Mrs. Hudson would be informed on this. Of course, that wasn't Sherlock's plan._

"_Where are we..?" Helena mumbled into his shirt, still gripping tightly._

"_At the flat, in my room." He whispering wanting her to get her sleep. Once in the room he slowly placed her down to the floor as she leaned on him. "Just putting you to bed."_

"_Oh.. good.." She nodded as he held her shoulder leaning to his bed unfolding the bedding. Helena felt him gently shuffle her to the bed, she felt her bum hit it and sat down feeling the soft bed. "..Oh yea, this bed." She smiled feeling the sheets with her fingers._

_Sherlock knelt down to remove her boots. Helena seemed to have no trouble being tired and drugged, as he removed the right boot and placed it by the bedside. Removing it's twin, the bed gave a shake, he looked up seeing Helena fall back onto the bed. When they left she put her clothing on she had before, despite the smell and burnt clothing. She was used to having damaged clothing that smelled of various things. Sherlock stood and bent over her unzipping her jacket, he paused midway, eyes shooting to her… she was dead asleep._

_Seeing it safe, he gently and slowly unzipped her hoodie, revealing her bare stomach and her breasts hidden under her bra. Sherlock was careful not to wake her for his own sake. She might be drugged enough to not remember or respond to what he was doing, but he just wanted the clothing off for his own personal need. The scar he mentioned once before to her was now revealed, it was just as he described. Fingers skimmed over it feeling the rough line compared to her soft pale skin around it._

"_Tsk." He gave removing her arms from the hoodie._

_Sherlock had to sit her up to get it from under her, but worked as he had to fix her position anyhow. Her head resting onto the pillow, he tossed the jacket to the end of the bed and walked to his dresser getting one of his shirts for her to wear. She was slim and small enough for them, hell might make her look smaller. That didn't factor of importance as he pulled a black button shirt out and walked back over sitting on the edge of the bed. He gently got her back up, letting her lean onto his shoulder so he could wrap the shirt around her back and over her shoulders. He felt her nuzzle into his neck, making his pause and look down to her. A small smile was on her lips as she leaned deeply into him. Hair was a bit messy from the bandaging as loose strands tickled his neck, her breathing was matching his own. The warmth of hers against his chest sent a shock up his spine, just the fact she was this close to him was a shock to himself._

_But, she was just sleeping off the drugs of course. Even if so, she couldn't see who it was. So if she did wake up, she'd just say John. For his own safety of her finding of his plan as well as her possibly hitting him for undressing her. John would be allowed for being a doctor of course._

_The heat in his head was shook off as he took an arm and slide it through the sleeve, then the same for the other. A sigh escaped his lips as he gently held her head and back to lay her onto the bed once more. Now to button the shirt, which he did so…. a bit slower than intended. Sherlock watched her peaceful face, or half of what he could see, sleeping into his pillow enjoying the soft fabric against her cheek. Helena inhaled deeply, causing her chest to rise against Sherlock's knuckles on the second button. Then she exhales through her parted lips, soft and small perfect for her round cheeks and sharp chin. Fingers weren't moving at this moment, eyes just stared at her lips, chin, neck- all so soft and smooth. Sherlock never got a good look at her, always bundled under that damn hoodie of hers. How could she be warm in this when out there. Oh right, the running. Keeping her warm by staying in motion, of course._

_Blinking out of his stare, he finished buttoning the rest of the shirt, and stood covering her with the blankets to keep her in place. He left the lamp on the bedside table on just in case she got up. Sherlock himself took the hoodie glad to find her phone tucked into the pockets, and left to the kitchen for his previously though needs. Weather he knew or not, he left with not only the hoodie, but with is eyes highly dilated._

* * *

There were six hours left to the puzzle, as Sherlock, John, and Helena were at Janus Cars talking with the business owner. Well, Helena just sat and listening. She was a bit out of the loop with her thoughts scattered more than usual. She let the boys handle it from here, Helena had a bit of trouble gathering a location from their location to Janus but got them there in a short amount of time.

"Can't see how I can help you gentlemen and miss." Ewert the owner told them sitting at his desk as his assistant left the room.

"Mr. Monkford hired the car from you yesterday." John stated his trusty little notebook at hand.

"Yeah. Lovely motor. Mazda RX-8. Wouldn't mind one of them myself." He nodded.

Sherlock was the only standing in the room, looking around scanning everything in his sights. "Is that one?" He asked pointing to the poster behind him standing close.

Ewert turns his head as Sherlock glances down at the man, "No, they're all Jags." He turned back to him. "Yeah, I can see you're not a car man, eh?"

Helena bit her lip to keep from snickering. For all she knew, he might not be. She had to remember to ask Sherlock if he really did know cars, she knows she sure as hell doesn't.

"But, er, surely _you_ can afford one- a Mazda, I mean?" Sherlock inquired as the man gave a typical business man like smile to them.

"Yeah, it's a fair point." He glanced to the car then back to them. Now and again he would look to Helena but didn't question her about being silent…. or 'blind folded' as he put it. "But you know how it is; it's like working at a sweetshop. Once you start picking at the liquorice all sorts, when does it all stop, eh?"

Sherlock took note of him scratching his arm and turned away walking past Helena. She felt his hand skim the back of her chair, but she didn't look up, he felt her jolt a bit almost assuring her of something.

"But you didn't know Mr. Monkford?" John asked.

"No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars." Ewert sighed. "No idea what happened to him. Poor sod." How sympathetic he sounded, Helena thought.

Sherlock by now was on the other side of the desk, he asks, "Nice holiday, Mr. Ewert?" Said man looked to him a bit confused by that. "You've been away, haven't you?"

John looked up to see what he meant, poor Helena couldn't at all. She just sat and listened. "No, it's, er, sunbeds, I'm afraid, yeah." That she caught on though tilting her head to which Sherlock noticed. "Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though, bit of sun."

"Have you got any change from the cigarette machine?" Sherlock suddenly asked _why _out of the blue.

"What?"

"Well, I noticed one on the way in," He nodded outside the window. "and I haven't got any change." Sherlock offered him a bank note. "I'm _gasping._"

Helena was a bit lost at this, but since she couldn't see, she couldn't understand Sherlock's motive. He heard him move in his chair, getting his wallet no doubt, some silence then. "No, sorry."

"Oh well." He shrugged putting his note away. "Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Ewert." Sherlock spun on his heel walking to the door. "You've been _very_ helpful. Come on, John, Helena." He called opening the door as John stood helping Helena. He waited on getting her out and left shutting the door behind him.

As they were leaving the building passing cars, John momentarily let go of Helena's hand to get his wallet. "I-I've got change if you still want to-"

"Nicotine patches," He told patting his left arm. "remember? I'm doing well."

"Ow!" The boys stopped turning seeing Helena was rubbing her shin… no one guiding her. She accidentally rammed her leg into the side of a car they passed.

"Oh, so sorry Helena!" John jogged over taking her arm.

"That's fine…" She hissed out taking John's arm as he lead her to Sherlock. "I'm glad it wasn't a moving car." Helena joked.

John chuckled a bit and turned to Sherlock as the three continued. "So what was _that_ all about?"

"I needed to look inside his wallet." Sherlock explained.

"Why?"

"Mr. Ewert's a liar." Sherlock stated lowly.

They left the lot Sherlock calling a cab. The three climbed in, John helping Helena in and sat across while Sherlock sat next to her shutting the door. "Helena, get us a route from Janus Cars to St. Bart's Hospital.

She nodded and let the mental images grow before her eyes, a map with a few different ways to the hospital. But… she frowned as the men noticed. Her head tilted one way, then slowly another. The images are hard to see, not as clear as before, she could barely see her mental map as well as usual. Her hands rose to her head, trying to focus on this. Why was it so hard to see it? She winced biting her lip, head starting to ache.

John frowned at this, Sherlock was pushing at her and he wasn't liking it. He reached over to her knee making her jump. "Helena, it's fine." he told softly and looked back to the cab driver. "St. Bart's. Hospital."

Helena shook her head, "I can get a fast route and save time, just… a minute."

"I don't want you hurting yourself, you might cause a headache over working your brain."

"Just a minute and I can get us there-"

Sherlock looked to her, "It's a waste of time to wait then to move, Hawkeye. Keep up."

Those words struck at her, heart skipped in near pain at his words. He hasn't said that name in a good while, she was… getting used to him saying her real name. But it was almost a hit to the nerve using that name during her current condition. John looked at Sherlock who looked out his window, but didn't say a thing, no argument was needed. Helena felt the car move, her hands returned to her lap, as she faced the window pretending that was nothing. Despite her doubts growing louder at that.

* * *

All was silent at St. Bart's in the lab. John offered her to get her food, she wasn't hungry sitting at a stool completely mouth shut since the car ride. John was worried, he knew what Sherlock said was over the line at her. Though no one said anything of it yet, the main priority was this current case.

Sherlock was testing with the blood sample in complete silence. John was out for a moment, Helena wasn't moving so he didn't need to keep too much of an eye on her. Though he enjoyed silence in his work… somehow the voice of Helena's remarks were a bit missed. Not that he admitted to this, her in the room deemed well enough for him.

The phone rang making Helena perk up, it was the pink phone. Sherlock picked it up from the table and answered it. "Hello?"

"The clue's in the name. Janus Cars." The tearful man told.

John looked to Helena who was rubbing her finger on the side of her bandages, guess it was starting to irritate her finally. "Why would you be giving me a clue?"

"Why does anyone do anything?" The man was more clear than the woman, Helena from her distance couldn't hear the other end of the call. She was barely even paying attention. "Because I'm bored. We were _made_ for each other, Sherlock." The man gave a shuddering short sigh. "Just as more as you and your pet."

Sherlock didn't expect that, pet; Helena. He knew about her, and Sherlock didn't appreciate that one bit. "Then talk to me in your own voice." he told lowly glancing to Helena.

"Patience." The call died, Sherlock lowered the phone staring thoughtfully of his words. He was highly enjoying this, sure he can play with Sherlock all he wanted. But calling to Helena on it, that part of the game he wasn't fond of. Sherlock focused back to his experiment, he'd deal with that notion later.

Helena heard the thunk of the phone not to gently tossed onto the counter. "He gave a clue?" She asked.

"Yes, it would seem." He looked up for a moment. "Clue in the name. Janus Cars. Know anything?"

Helena went stiff, she didn't, should she? The name didn't seem that off to her, with short hesitance she shook her head.

Sherlock nodded and turned back to his dish seeing the fizzling liquid. Helena felt the bandages over her eyes. How much longer does she have to be like this?

* * *

Three more hours to go, and just at the end of the rope, the three found themselves with Lestrade at a impound where cars are crime scenes were kept. Helena didn't even try to give directions as Sherlock didn't asked, he gave the location and just let the cabbie do his job. John was growing more concern, remembering to talk with Sherlock on this when time is given.

"How much blood was on that seat, would you say?" Sherlock asked the Detective Inspector.

"How much? About a pint." He guessed.

John walked around the back end of the car, Sherlock and Lestrade on either side of the vehicle. Helena, was leaning against a beam a bit away feeling as distant as she made herself to be.

"Not 'about'. _Exactly_ a pint." Sherlock told. "That was their first mistake. The blood's definitely Ian Monkford's but it's been frozen."

"Frozen?" Lestrade questioned.

"There are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago and that's what they spread on the seats." He indicated.

"_Who_ did?" John asked.

"Janus Cars. The clue's in the name."

"The god with two faces."

Helena's head shot up, John knew!? Well, no offense to the bloke he wasn't an idiot or anything of that sort. But he always was silent or slow at these things, then again he's properly educated unlike her. She let it pats rubbing the side of her arm.

"Exactly." Sherlock near praised looking to Lestrade. "They provide a very special service. If you've got any kind of a problem -money troubles, bad marriage, whatever- Janus Cars will help you disappear." He exhaled and took in air to continue. "Ian Monkford was up to his eyes in some kind of trouble – financial, at a guess; he's a banker. Couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was found abandoned with his blood all over the driver's seat."

"So where is he?" John asked.

Sherlock shut the door and answered, "Columbia." and walked to Helena standing by her.

Helena frowned, _wow _what a jump! "Columbia!?" Lestrade exclaimed as he and John followed.

"Mr Ewert of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Columbian peso note in his wallet Quite a bit of change, too. He told us he hadn't been abroad recently, but when I asked him about the cars, I could see his tan line clearly. No-one wears a shirt on a sunbed. That, plus his arm."

"His arm?" Lestrade asked, not being there so wondered on this one.

"Kept scratching it. Obviously irritating him, and bleeding. Why? Because he'd recently had a booster jab. Hep-B, probably. Difficult to tell at that distance. Conclusion: he'd just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Columbia. Mrs Monkford cashes in the life insurance and she splits it with Janus Cars."

Helena had to let a small smile out, she did love it when his explanations were just long tangents of detail. Gave her a better image of the scene then nothing.

"M-Mrs. Monkford?" John asks making sure he heard right.

"Oh yes. She's in on it too." Lestrade looked away amazed by all this, Sherlock was as incredible as always. He didn't know how much his mind could handle Sherlock anymore. "Now do and arrest them, Inspector. That's what you do best." He turned taking Helena's hand causing her to jump for at least the third time today. "We need to let our friendly bomber now that the case is solved."

Sherlock and John lead down the hall with Helena gripping Sherlock's hand to keep up, Lestrade watched the trio leave still stunned. Sherlock gripped her hand tightly with a "I am on _fire_!" triumphantly.

Helena smiled glad he got this one solved as he checked his watch, indeed three hours so they had to rush to the flat for him to give the answer. Despite she was of no help this time, she'd get the next one.

* * *

At the flat, the three stayed in their coats and jackets. The windows were still not fixed so it was just about a nice freezing cold temperature in the flat. With no heat or the fireplace, it was a bit murderous to them. Sherlock didn't seem bothered currently, nor John, but Helena shivered on the couch. John and Sherlock were at the dining table, phone on the side as Sherlock typed out a new entry to his blog to contact his bomber. About twenty seconds after, the phone rang from the same blocked number. Sherlock swiped it putting it on speaker for all to hear.

"He says you can come and fetch me. Help… Help me, please." He cried, soon the line went dead with the distant sound of sirens outside. Sherlock just grinned, another winning point for him.

The sound of a thud made them look over to Helena was was rubbing her shin, she had just kicked her leg into the coffee table mumbling curses at it. John went over putting a hand on her shoulder, "Need help?"

"Yea, just lead me to the stairs." She told putting a hand on his arm.

"Stairs? By yourself?"

"There's a railing I'll hold on tightly and be careful. Mrs. Hudson offered me some of her biscuits and I'm starving."

John chuckled and lead her to the door putting her hand on the wooden railing. "Just call for Sherlock when you're ready to sleep."

"Roger, roger." She waved making her way slowly down the stairs.

Once out of hearing range, John went over sighing as he took a seat in his chair. Sherlock sat there hands steepled to his lips in deep thought. "So," John cleared his throat rubbing a palm into the arm rest. "Helena kept up well." He said to try and strike something from Sherlock.

"She did indeed." He commented softly, and stood turning to him letting his hands fall. Oh… oh no, that look. That look John Watson was giving meant something, he swore if this had to do with-

"Until you pushed her." John added sharply

...Pushed her? Oh, Helena. Sherlock thought it was something else entirely. That look, oh he knew that look. "I've done nothing wrong." He defended right away.

"Bull, Sherlock." John called out now glaring. "In the cab, you pushed her to give us a route, she's still recovering. Having her with us is one thing, but making her do things while in her condition is an entirely different thing."

"She was able to keep up well climbing and running during the banker case despite her muscle recovery." Sherlock argued giving a glare back at him and strode to the kitchen. "Even without her sight she should be able to see the map of hers in her own mind palace."

"She's not exactly like you." John got up and followed him in. "Helena is brilliant, but she has limits…" His eyes looked over the new 'experiment' Sherlock was looking over, Helena's hoodie on the kitchen table with a bit of the material cut and being looked at through the microscope. John looked to Sherlock and sighed, "If she finds out-"

"She can't even see, how can she know?" Sherlock chuckled, he looked up at John oh… the glare deepened. "...Not good?"

"Yeah, extremely." John nodded.

Sherlock sighed at this, "It's true, no matter how I word it. Her injury was no accident, something isn't right."

"But you don't even know what happened, she won't tell you." John indicated.

"No, but I know who will." Sherlock continued taking the phone she left with them checking the messages. "The 'friend' who took Helena to the hospital, but didn't stick around to meet us."

"...Her friend, the one who texted us." John remembered. "But, what are the odds of finding him?"

"Well, he must be part of the homeless community, just need to contact the network and get a small lead." Sherlock gave a short smile and walked back to the living room to his laptop. John shook his head and decided to sleep, he knew another case would keep them working tomorrow.

* * *

Downstairs Helena sat with Mrs. Hudson, it was growing late much to Helena's concern when asking the time, not wanting to keep the poor lady up.

"You can stay here as long as you like, dearie." Mrs. Hudson smiled patting her hand as she poured some warm tea for her. She handed it to her gently, careful with her not able to see.

Helena allowed her, knowing she would do it even if she said not to. That was always a sweet thing she loved about Mrs. Hudson, even giving a homely rat such as herself a homey feel.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Helena sipped the tea and gently put it down, her hand reaching in search for the plate of biscuits she made. "I'm glad the explosion didn't break your windows, so you're all nice and warm."

"Oh, I would offer the boys more blankets but they keep bustling out of here so early in the morning." She told sitting across from her sliding the plate closer to her.

"Ah, yeah, they'll be working hard for a while. But I'll keep them in track, for you." She smiled taking a bite.

"I just don't want to see them over worked, John always seems tired during their cases." She told holding her cup of tea. "How are you holding up?"

"Hm?" Helena tilted her head.

Mrs. Hudson smiles motherly at her. "The way they dote on you. It's so cute!"

Helena felt her cheeks grow a bit warm, but she smiled softly. "Yeah, they tend to do that a lot. I appreciate them doing so, it just seems a bit.. unnatural I guess."

"What do you mean dear?"

Taking a breath, Helena looked down rubbing her thumb against the rim of the cup. "Being part of the homeless community isn't a welcomed one to society, Mrs. Hudson. I've been with them since I was a teenager, and all I can remember is the life rules of not trusting people of a higher marking standard. It's survival, no one can help you but yourself or your 'family'." She chuckled taking more of her tea. "That's why I wanted to change things, I.. I've done things I'll soon regret later in my life, hell I do now thinking back. I've gotten people I never knew hurt, and risk my own life to save others. That's why I've taken role to look after people that others won't look to help. Without me, some wouldn't be alive now."

The sound of sniffling made Helena perk up, oh shit! Had she said something bad? A sniffle was never a good sign. "Oh, you poor deary." The chair scraped against the tile, Helena went stiff looking around trying to figure out what Mrs. Hudson was doing. Arms wrapped around her, in a soft gentle hug, head pressing into a shoulder. Helena said nothing, stunned to what she should do. A… motherly hug… a loving parental hug. It's been years since...

Without a way to deny it, Helena turned and hugged her back, biting her lip to refrain from showing any signs of wanting to cry. Not she could, if her ears teared up, it wouldn't be good for the bandages. A sigh escaped the two, Mrs. Hudson considered her a daughter as much as Sherlock a son. For the first time in over 12 years, Helena has a mother figure once again.

* * *

In the kitchen silence was all Sherlock needed and accepted as he kept staring down into his microscope. He wasn't getting much, knowing he'd have to take these to St. Bart's for proper research. Her hoodie was is now stained with black burn marks and still smelled of smoke sat on the table, the material a small cloth cut and in his microscope he keeping looking into. He removed the dished and looked at it with is naked eyes. He didn't have much to go on, he needs to see the location of where it happened, and the story on how.

A loud thud came from the stairway. "Ow…"

Sherlock put the small dish down and moved the items around to hide the scent, but still in plain view. Peeking around the corner, Helena was searching for the railing to get back to her feet, she must has slipped a step and her grip on the wood was lost. He leaned down and took her open hand, she instantly turned her head up as Sherlock pulled her to her feet.

"Thanks." She mumbled.

"Need to sit down?" He asked leading her to the living room.

"Actually, I was on my way to bed. The tea Mrs. Hudson made was making me grow drowsy." She chuckled. Sherlock nodded and helped her past the kitchen, she paused though and sniffed the air. Thinking her now high sense of smell might catch him to his behind the back search. "Another experiment?" She asked, glancing over to grin over her shoulder.

"Yes, the usual brain exercise." He slid off patting her shoulder to continue walking.

Helena didn't budge, her smirk faded off. "...How messy is the kitchen?"

Sherlock frowned and looked around, it was more messy with so much work than usual. "A bit worse off than usual."

She nodded and continued to Sherlock's bedroom. It wasn't anything off for her to sleep in his bed, doing it beyond his demands to not even enter the room. But now that his window was her main entrance, he was growing not to care as much if she even slept in it after her recovery. Not at the same time as himself of course.

Helena plopped onto the bed with a soft grunt as she removed her boots herself keeping them stood by and neat for Sherlock's sake. "I never told you this," She spoke sitting up as he stood by the doorway. "you're room wasn't what I expected when I first saw it."

He looked around, then scoffed. "I'm not always a slob."

"Every other room in this flat is a complete mess, yet your room is untouched." She argued with a sly sneer. "Amuse me; am I the first to ever set foot in this room besides you?"

Sherlock just looked at her, she was indeed. Mrs. Hudson was never one to go into bedrooms as they didn't to her. John hasn't stepped foot as far as he could remember…. No, he never has. Mycroft dare not ever come in the bedroom, Sherlock would have to threaten to release his 'unclassified' reports to his blog if he ever thought on it.

"Yes." His words soft as they passed through his lips, Helena tilted her head curiously.

"Why me?" She asked just as softly back removing her jacket and tossing it at the end of the bed.

Sherlock found himself taking one step- two steps closer and knelt down, hand on her knee. His hand raised up to tilt her head down indicating he was lower than before. Why her indeed? What made her different than the rest; the rest of the world?

He allowed her to go and beyond his limits and he now himself was going past his own. First meeting her she was some filthy street urchin who he didn't even allow on his couch. Now, she slept in her bed with his own offer to it. Eyes still scanned her face, she waited for an answer he tried to give. But he found his voice… not there. With a blink of his eyes, he quickly stood up, and fixed his jacket. Helena found the warm hand gone raised her head assuming he stood.

"Sherlo-"

"You should get some rest, we'll be on a new one tomorrow." With that the door shut as quickly as the words left him.

Helena sighed heavily, but just laid into the bed, pulling the heavy blankets over her body. Hugging the pillow her face nuzzled in, she can clearly smell Sherlock's scent just faintly; Cigarettes, clean linen… and she wears of some sort of cologne. Now thinking back, he had the faint scent of the cologne being stronger than cigarettes.

Her head was starting to hurt, she just decided to relax into the mattress and hope sleep land takes care of her well tonight. Tomorrow, she had to work hard for Sherlock.

Outside the door, Sherlock was just ruffling his hair out of frustration. Sociopath, he was a _high functioning_ sociopath. Releasing his hair, he let out a deep inhale, and long exhale. Helena was his Hawkeye, his bird of the skies. She wasn't one for domestic life, as she put it, so she for sure was the same as him; no feelings.

If so, then why was he trying so hard behind her back to find out what happened to her?


	11. Chapter 11

_**So, damn. I ended up canceling my pre-order. My laptop battery is really becoming shit and I just bought it a month ago and it's only lasting barely 5 minutes off the plug. I might have to buy another one but be careful when charging cause it seems when I leave it plugged in too long it fucks the battery… Which is bullshit in technology today honestly.**_

_**Thanks PuppetPrince for the smiley review, it's a cute one at that!**_

_**Sorry this chapter is a bit short, I don't want to rush Sherlock and Helena, writing a sociopath is sort of harder than I thought… It'll get better I swear!**_

* * *

The very next morning, Sherlock, John, and Helena were at a dinner for the two of the trio to finally get a proper meal. John can't stand going on with minimal food in him, unlike the other two. For once Helena wanted a decent meal but ended up falling asleep halfway through with her plate pushed away for her to rest her head on the table. She sat beside John who was digging into his meal, though Sherlock denied food his fingers drummed the table glaring the pink phone for the ring.

"Feeling better?" He asks.

"Hmm." John swallows and looks up. "You realise we've hardly stopped for a breath since this thing has started? Even Helena is too tired to eat." He glances to her. Sherlock didn't answer as it didn't bother him one bit, he was used to this. John took another forkful and with half his mouth full, "Has it occured to you-"

"Probably." Sherlock answered.

"No." John started again. "Has it occured to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope, breaking into the other the flat, the dead kid's shoes- it's all meant for you."

Sherlock let a small smile show. "Yes, I know."

John thought for a moment, he sat up straight. "Is it him, then?" Sherlock's eyes wandered up to him. "Moriarty?"

"...Perhaps." Sherlock answered thoughtfully. His eyes wander to the sleeping female who let out a sigh in her sleep.

The message alert rung out bringing the boys attention to the pink phone. Blocked of course, Sherlock swiped to answer getting a picture of a middle-aged woman with two short pips and the long one at the end. Helena groaned at the beeping and seemed to finally wake up as she stretched her arms out in front of her accidently touching the phone. She mumbled a sorry and sat up.

"Another?" She asked.

"Yes." Sherlock's mind was for once…. befuddled. He didn't know this face, he dug deep into his memory- nope nothing. Who the hell was this? "That could be anybody." He stated flipping the phone for John to see.

John found this amusing, Sherlock for once didn't know something. "Well, it _could_ be, yeah." He took the napkin off his nap wiping his mouth. "Lucky for you, I've been more than a little unemployed."

Helena frowned at this, wondering what happened at the clinic he worked on. But then remembered how he was too tired to work from the banker case and didn't question it. She reached for her plate by John's pulling it over in front of her and picked at it a bit with her fork not caring if it was cold. She wanted her eggs.

"How d'you mean?" Sherlock asks.

"Lucky for you, Mrs. Hudson and I watch far too much telly." John stood mumbling 'excuse me' to Helena letting her know he was passing behind her to get to the front counter. He took the remote and turned the telly on the wall on, and flipped through trying to find the channel.

"Thank you, Tyra!" Sherlock's eyes shot to the television seeing some day time show. Helena's head turns to the sound. "Doesn't she look lovely everybody, _now_?"

The phone then ring at that moment, John looked over, Helena looked down at her food but kept her ears open. "Hello?"

A shudder came and took some time to distinguish it was female when the voice came through. "This one… is a bit… defective." A woman who sounded old in her age spoke slower than the others, no crying- not yet. "Sorry. She's blind. She is… a funny one. Remind you… of someone?" Sherlock look straight at Helena who didn't seem to be listening as much. He was going there now, wasn't he? The fact he was blind made him ponder how he was communicating with her… Ah, ear peice of course.

"I'll give you… twelve hours." She informs him.

John sits back watching him. "Why are you doing this?" Sherlock asked into the phone.

"I like… to watch you…dance." The elderly blind woman gasps and sobs in horror before hanging up.

Sherlock lowers the phone shaking his head at John, he drops it on the table looking at Helena who was now poking her food no longer hungry at best. This was growing personal… Something new to Sherlock. There was a small pit of… something at the mention of her during the call recent two calls. He turned to the tv watching the footage with a voice over, the channel being a news. 'Make-over Queen Connie Prince dead at 48'.

"Continuing into the sudden death of the popular TV personality, Connie Prince. Miss Prince, famous for her make-over programmes, was found dead two days ago by her brother in the house they shared in Hampstead."

"Dead?" The men looked to Helena who had been silent the whole time. "He wants Sherlock to find out how she died?" She scoffed shoving the plate a bit roughly. "That should be easy, dead is your specialty."

Sherlock watched her for a bit before standing giving the alert of the other two to stand. "She has a point." He smirked at John who took the lead to the register to pay for their meal.

Helena gently pushed her chair in, and turned ready to be taken by either of the men. She felt a hand take hers and place it on his arm to hold, just by the coat material she knew it was Sherlock right away. "Ever been to a morgue?" He asks.

"Can't say that I have." Helena looked up as he leads her to the door with John following.

* * *

"Connie Prince, fifty-four. She has one of those makeover shows on the telly." Lestrade read out the file as he lead them into the examination room of the morgue where said woman's body laid on the table sheet covering her chest to her knees. "Did you see it?" He asks.

"No." Both Helena and Sherlock answer as he walked around the table looking her over. Helena stayed by Lestrade finding no purpose to be near the body…. or here for this matter.

"Very popular. She was going places." Just by the voice Helena stepped a bit closer beside the Inspector.

"Not anymore." John comes by to see with Sherlock. "So; dead two days. According to one of her staff, Raoul de Santos, she cut her hand on a rusty nail in the garden. Nasty wound." They both look at the deep cut in her hand that was lodged in the web of her right thumb and index finger. "Tetanus bacteria entered the bloodstream-" Helena looked up at those words… She had that when John first met her. "good night Vienna."

"I suppose." John nods to him bending down to get a better look.

"Something's wrong with this picture." Sherlock indicated.

Lestrade looked up from his file. "Eh?"

"Can't be as simple as it seems, otherwise the bomber wouldn't be directing us towards it. Something's wrong." Sherlock took his magnifier out and started examining the body.

"..I agree." Lestrade and John looked to Helena, who was growing more unusually quiet. "When I first met John and Sherlock, I had that-Tetanus. I was out in the streets and wasn't taken care of until the near last minute." Her head nodded forward assuming the two were in that direction. "They- or John actually let me stay there to heal, Sherlock helped me through his own therapy of sort. So, if I lived almost a week with it, how could she who is living in a warm comforted home die of it?"

The two men looked at her flabbergasted, seeing her huge point in all of this. She was so silent since yesterday and that was all she had in her to say. John was happy she got that out, showing Sherlock she was doing her best on this.

Sherlock was currently looking over her forehead, "John." he called to look with him.

Helena's mouth went snap shut looking downwards playing with her fingers. With no acknowledgement she felt her words were wasted breath. John glanced at her before tending to Sherlock.

"The cut on her hand, it's deep. Would have bled a lot, right?"

"Yeah."

"But the wound's clean- _very _clean, and fresh." Helena was about to give another in put, to her theory she provided before. "How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?"

John blinks at him thinking on it. "Eight, ten days."

Sherlock gives a grin, looking to John for him to gather the answer. Despite Helena had given it… He never gave her a single glance for her input.

"The cut was made later."

"After she was dead."

"Must have been." Sherlock told them. "The only question is, how did the tetanus enter the dead woman's system?"

John and Lestrade figured it out, why not her? She didn't think of that- that's why Sherlock didn't respond. It was so obvious it wasn't that the tetanus got in her, but entered her another way. She stepped back until she found the wall and placed herself there for the time being.

"You want to help, right?" Sherlock asked John.

"Of course." He answers, then glances to Helena seeing she had moved. "As does Helena of course."

He nodded to his words, giving her a short glance. "And you both shall. Connie Prince's background- family history, everything. Give me data."

"Right." John gave and left to the door, he patted Helena on the shoulder who smiled back meekly and left.

Sherlock walked past Lestrade to Helena. "There's something else that we haven't thought of." He states.

"Is there?" Sherlock casually asks.

"Yeah," Lestrade turns to him, "Why is he _doing _this, the bomber?" Sherlock stops just in front of Helena staring at her listening. His face shows a bit of an anxious expression, thinking back on the words. "If this woman's death was suspicious, why point it out?"

"Good Samaritan." He throws over his shoulder.

"Who press-gangs suicide bombs?" He urged more keeping Sherlock from leaving.

"_Bad_ Samaritan." Sherlock jokes.

"I'm-I'm serious, Sherlock." He finally turns looking at the Inspector. "Listen; I'm cutting you slack here- I'm trusting you. But out there somewhere, some poor bastard's covered in Semtex and is just waiting for you to solve the puzzle. So just tell me; what are we dealing with?"

Helena can tell Lestrade's stress was rising at every new puzzle Sherlock was given. While he found it a delight, the poor Inspector was at the edge of his desk hoping this would all end soon.

"Something new." Sherlock answered, a sly grin on his features. "Come, Helena." He called, letting her taking his arm and lead her out of the morgue.

"What are we to do?" Helena asked walking down the hall with him.

"To Baker Street." Sherlock answered.

* * *

Was it a lie? It had to be? He said so himself…

So why was she sitting in a chair, staring at nothing but total blackness, and only hearing Sherlock shuffle things around her Lestrade putting in his input now and again -who she didn't even know was with them until they got into a cab- without her say on anything? He usually asked her opinions, thoughts, even like John explained it to her for her to figure things out.

He hasn't said a word to her since they got there. His wall above the couch was now covered with notes, photos, string pinned from one location stretching to another, some linked together. Sherlock himself was currently pacing with Lestrade to the side, Helena sat by the dining table by the window. There was no cold breeze, still chilly as the boards on the windows were the best that would do for now.

"Connection, connection, connection." Sherlock chanted. "There _must_ be a connection." He stops and indicates this Lestrade gesturing various spots. "Carl Powers, killed twenty years ago. The bomber _knew_ him; _admitted_ that he knew him. The bomber's iPhone was in stationery from the Czech Republic. First hostage from Cornwall, the second from London, the third from Yorkshire, judging by her accent. What's he doing – working his way round the world? Showing off?"

Helena couldn't help but chuckle. "He's doing what you do, isn't he?" The two looked to her. "Showing off, that's what you do."

Sherlock gave a grunt at her, "We're not the same-"

"Yes you are; you both get bored to the point of pulling stuff such as this." She argued, he didn't respond. "Everyone has a twin like aspect to another, if you really think on it he is your counterpart. In every sense-"

"Not in _this_ sense!" He barked at her, earning a silent retreat from her. "Unless you're helping, stay quiet." Helena gulped back her words, and just turned away. Lestrade looked between the two, sudden tense about them was growing.

The phone rang, Sherlock snatched it out and answered it on speaker for all to hear. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Joining the… dots." The poor woman sobbed before continuing. "Three hours; boom….boom." A small terror of a cry came out before the line going dead.

Helena rested her head on the table top, Sherlock's patience was thinning on this. When he couldn't figure something out he would get aggravated with others. Like how he was with the book code and would give her small bits of insults now and again. It didn't bother her then, why now?

Without a notice, Helena got up and shuffled into the kitchen thankfully not hitting anything. She didn't want to bother them, unless she could help, but how could she? She can't even see the bloody victim let alone her own map!

This was to be it; surely after this was all over- or sooner- Sherlock would toss her off as useless.

* * *

"Great… Thank you. Thanks again."

An hour has passed since Helena left the room to somewhere in the flat, and it seems no one has taken notice since. Sherlock was on his phone with someone as he wandered to the fireplace. His eyes looked around the kitchen, Helena wasn't there but seeing his door slightly ajar hinted she was in there. Mrs. Hudson joined them but a bit ago to offer tea and ended up sticking around. She was slightly interested since it was of someone she really looked to on television.

"It was a real shame. I liked her." Lestrade watched Sherlock but turned to Mrs. Hudson to listen. "She taught you how to do your colors."

"Colors?" Lestrade asks.

"You know," She gestured the the clothing on her. "what goes best with what. I should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me."

Sherlock returned ending the call. "Who was that?"

"Home office." Sherlock answers staring at the wall once again.

Lestrade blinks at him in shock. "Home office?"

"Well, Home Secretary, actually. Owes me a favor." He explained pocketing his main phone.

"She was a pretty girl but she messed about with herself too much." Came Mrs. Hudson's input. "They _all_ do these days." She turned to Lestrade who seemed to be the only one to actually listen to her. "People can hardly move their faces. It's silly, isn't it?" Giving a giggle as Lestrade smiled to amuse her, he couldn't just be mean to the poor girl like Sherlock was at times.

She turned to Sherlock, "Did you ever see her show?"

"Not until now." He mumbled turning to get his laptop. Sherlock does a quick search and finds a episode of Connie's show featuring her brother.

"You look _pasty_, love!" Laughed Connie.

"Ah!" Came a man on the screen. "Rained every day but one!"

"That's the brother." Mrs. Hudson pointed out. "No love lost there, if you can believe the papers."

"So I gather." Said Sherlock. "I've just been having a very fruitful chat with people who loved this show. Fan sites- indispensable for gossip."

Back on the video, Connie stood from her chair gesturing to her brother, Kenny. "There's really only one thing we can do with that ensemble, don't you think girls?" Her hands start clapping chanting, "Off! Off! Off! Off!" with the audience with her hands slamming onto Kenny's back… mighty harshly.

Sherlock paused the video putting the laptop down, Mrs. Hudson then asks, "Where did Helena go off to?"

Lestrade looks around, now noticing she had been quite now seeing her nowhere. "She's resting now." Sherlock answers, typing through laptop with Lestrade watching from his spot.

"Oh, is she feeling alright?" She asks taking the try that had freshly made snicker doodles. Mrs. Hudson remembered Helena mentioned them once and thought to make them for her.

"Just tired is all, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock told as she picked the tray up.

"I'll save these for her then." She smiled and left down to her flat.

Sherlock returned Lestrade when his phone rang. He pulled it out, reading the ID was just his blogger. Without a second thought he answered, "John."

"Hi. Look, get over here quickly. I think I'm onto something. You'll need to pick up some stuff first. You got a pen?" John's voice was low indicating he was near another person.

Sherlock answered, "I'll remember." grabbing his coat and scarf as he left Lestrade at the flat, he'd be back soon anyhow.

* * *

"_**Alright let's get these finally off." Said John as he started to get to work unwrapping the bandages on Helena's head.**_

"_**About time, I was thinking my hair might fall out from it." She jokes bending her head down a few times for him to reach the back.**_

_**John chuckled, "I'll be you'll be excited to be jumping and running all over London, eh?"**_

"_**Oh yes!" She giggled trying not to bounce in her seat with excitement.**_

"_**Oop, hold still, almost done." He assured getting the last of the bandages.**_

_**Soon she felt the last bit fall off the side of her head. The cotton like patches in her eyes still kept them closed, Helena took a deep breath as John gently removed them, she felt the stickiness peel off her lids.**_

"_**Alright, I'm going to cover your eyes," John raised a hand to shadow over them, "Now slowly open them, slowly." He instructed.**_

_**Her breathing was silent, it was almost like the world was mute as her lids slowly cracked opened, things dark at first of course for being closed for so long- about a week. She blinked ready for her eyes to adjust to the room that was possibly lit or brightly lit if John needed light to see.**_

"_**Alright, opened?" Helena nodded, "Well?" He asked after a bit.**_

"_**Well, I can't tell with your hand still over my eyes." She chuckled.**_

"_**..I-I moved them." He slowly told looking to his hands.**_

_**Her eyes were wide open, staring right back at him. "...But, it's still dark, black if anything." She indicated.**_

"_**Just as I had thought." The two turned to Sherlock, where was he?**_

"_**What?"**_

_**Helena's heart beat grow loudly suddenly, faster as well, sweat was growing on her forehead as she heard the words.**_

"_**You're permanently blind." Her breathing hitched. "You've become obsolete."**_

"_**No….no no-"**_

* * *

Shooting from the bed, hot but shivering at this new sensation from her nightmare. Hands flew to her face feeling the material of gauze covering her sight, a sigh escaped. But her mind froze, she was still not recovered- if she was going to at all. The odds of her being left on the drop of a dime was still a possibility. It didn't happen!

Sweat drenched her face causing the gauze to be wet along with her neck and hair. Helena tried to calm her breathing and racing heart, it was a dream. That's all- a nightmare.

"Just a dream.." She told herself rubbing her arms. "Nightmare.. I don't get nightmares."

...Of all things to have a dream about, why this? Her father's death should be the only nightmare to have, none of this to happen.

"...How long..?" She fell asleep, and during the puzzle. But then again, Sherlock never came to get her. He had to know she was there, he left the door a crack open for him to know.

She throw her feet over the edge and felt her way out of the room, closing the door behind her. hands on either walls, she lead herself into the kitchen, feeling around finding the fridge to her left. "Sherlock?" Helena called, but no answer.

"Lestrade! You still here?"

Still no answer.

"John, are you here at least?"

As Helena got herself past the kitchen and into the living room, she heard absolutely nothing. Not a word, sound, or even breath.

She was left alone.

Helena indicated maybe they left to get a clue. But last she checked they had three hours, they must have solved it and saved her by now.

**SLAM**

The door? Someone was here, they must have come back. Helena stayed in her spot hearing footsteps echo up the stairway, though slow not as rushed as usual. A smile was on her lips, imagining Sherlock strolling in with a grin that he solved yet another puzzle beating the bomber by his own game.

The wood creaked as someone came inside, one stopped as the other let a voice out. "Oh, Helena, Jesus…" John, it was John Watson… He sounded stressed.

"There you are, I assumed you guys were all ignoring me." She teased hearing someone go to her, unexpectedly she received a hug. By body type it had to be John, as the second person strode slowly past them to the other end, clothing removed. Sherlock taking his scarf and coat off.

John sighed into her shoulder, not usually a good sign. "...Is something wrong? John? Sherlock?"

He pulled away keeping hands on her shoulders. "...Sherlock solved it but.."

Helena placed a hand on his arm, her brows creased under the wrappings. "But?"

"She didn't make it.."

Helena frowned. "What? Didn't make it- But it was solved!" She argued stepping back into the chair. "You said so- what did he bloody cheat and decided to just kill her for the fun!? To get a laugh to make Sherlock think he was getting them all but one had to die!?"

The men were silent at her outburst, John knew she wouldn't take it well. He was just as upset, but Helena was angry. No one said a thing for a while, John looked to Sherlock who now sat in his chair staring to the fireplace, almost refusing to look at either of them. He decided to let the two on this, they had big minds and maybe she can hit some sense to care for these victims now that one died. He turned going upstairs, leaving the two be hoping she would be fine with him alone.

Sherlock looked over seeing John left, his eyes darted to Helena who just stood there facing forward to the opposite wall he was glaring at. Yes, glaring. Actually, he turned back to continue glaring, let off some steam he had on this night.

But the sound of something cluttering to the floor made him glance back finding Helena trying to guide herself around the chair, she was doing fine until she tripping on the ottoman, gravity taking her ten fold. Sherlock was quick, shooting his arms out just at the right time to catch her in his arms before she made an impact onto the floor. Her own hands gripped onto his suit jacket pulling herself up.

"Be careful," He scolded her pulling her to her knees in front of him as he still sat in his chair. "If you need to sit down, ask what's-"

"It's not your fault." He looked down at her, she was looking up at up… just unable to see him exactly. "You solved the puzzle, you beat the time, right? Was that it, time was up?"

Sherlock sighed letting his arms loose of her as she knelt in front of him, he leaned back resting his arms on the armrest. She kept her hands on them, though a good distance that his legs kept between them. "..No, I got there before the hour fell."

"..Then what? You beat the time, solved it, what happened?"

Sherlock swallowed dryly, his pride was what kept him from telling. Just as her pride got in the way before during her times. No, not weak, this wasn't a weak state.

Before a word was released, Helena's one hand searched downward finding his knee. She let out a small grunt putting weight on him to stand, with no sight she was finding the task a bit dizzy.

"Helena, you-"

"Just tell me, please." She soon got back to her feet, now looming over Sherlock, face closer than ever. "...It's nothing to be shameful of, really." Her hand that was on his knee moved up his waist, following the clothing up to his neck, moving to his shoulder almost to keep him there. Her voice wasn't demanding, it was soft.. pleading. "..If it's because.. I won't tell about me, then I will."

Sherlock blinked, he could get a confession out of her if he told what caused it? He never imagined her this desperate just to know something.

But, Helena just felt so out of the loop, she didn't know if she could stand this. Left behind half of the puzzle, being told all those things past two days, and with Sherlock withholding this, did he want her out of it completely?

A sigh through her nose, she licked her lips to start, in a soft whisper that was just about soothing to his ears. "I was by the highway not far from the homeless community. Trevor was with me, searching for some things to help them when the harsh winter weather arrives." Helena paused swallowing, her finger feeling the material he wore on his arm and shoulder, now thinking how thick it was on his slim figure. "We found a outdoor fireplace, it looked to be trashed out, so I checked to see if anything was living inside it. Before I knew it, my eyes felt like they were on fire, I screamed so much, Trevor got me to the hospital and.. I woke up there.. to darkness."

Her fingers skimmed the bandages, remembering it all and it replying it in her mind over and over again. She felt fingers over her own, bigger and warmer. Sherlock's hands over top of her also feeling the gauze. It was completely silent, not a soul moved or said a thing, Helena wanted to take the wrappings off now and see him, find out the expression he held at her during this moment. Her nails dug in, daring to actually rip them off, but his hands took them and pulled down them and away from them.

"Not yet." He told her, placing her hand down to the armrest holding it firmly. "Once this is all over."

All over? The puzzles and bombs? When this whole thing is over, will she be? Her dream came back to her thoughts, it was after these events that she would have them removed. Her heart pounded at the upcoming fear that would soon arrive. Her head lowered accidentally touching Sherlock's forehead with her own, his dark curls against her auburn strands.

"Sherlock?' She felt his hand turn her own to hold her wrist, "Tell me."

Sherlock's lips parted, voice to be found to tell her his side. But feeling the pulse of her heart running brought him back from this clouded scene before him. He gently but hurriedly pushed her up from from and stood, walking around her and letting his grasp of her go.

Although her hands reached back out to find his, she couldn't feel him anywhere near. "Sherlock?" She called, out. "Sherlock, where did you…"

A door shut-slammed, to her right past the kitchen, down the hall as it echoed out to her. He left, to his room, slamming her out. Her weight fell into his absent chair she now huddled into, legs hugged as she just sat there, alone. Not daring to move, Helena decided to stay.

It had to be true, after hearing that Sherlock must have decided.

She wasn't going to last long.

* * *

Okay, even he knew what he did was not good. It didn't take hearing John's voice in his head to tell him that. Sherlock didn't knew a lot of moments that his emotions, words, or even actions were beyond in the wrong or right place. But deep down, what he did was wrong and he knew it this time.

For one; he just left a blind person out in a room where she barely knows where anything is. Two; he kept letting her sleep in his bed and now she was to sleep on the couch. And three; when John finds her on the couch, he was to get one huge earful.

Sherlock sort of dreaded going to sleep, he would originally search into Helena's case. But finally hearing the story, he can now investigate further, knowing the location and the friend's name. He decided to keep that in check tomorrow and find Trevor.

Inside he wanted to go back out- No, he can't. Why not? He was a sociopath, he didn't… do those things. He didn't care like John did. What would it lead to? Sherlock would give the impression he.. cared for her in _that_ way.

If denying it, he still questioned on why he was near obsessed with her case. Before falling back onto his bed to sleep, not even bothering to change to different clothing, as it was late and morning would arrive soon, he answered himself.

"To confirm my suspicions of the bomber."


	12. Chapter 12

It was a bit of a silent morning at Baker Street. The two flatmates didn't speak to each other, and good reason for one of them.

John awoke this morning slipping his wool jumper on, heading down for breakfast finding Helena sleeping on the couch curled up with nothing to cover her. John was confused, assuming Helena might have had a fight with Sherlock and refused to take his room, seeing Sherlock was no where in the flat. Not wanting to wake her, he went into his room and came back with a blanket for her draping it on top of her small form. She moved a bit, but kept to her slumber.

John took the liberty to making himself a small breakfast and was ready to make one for her when she wakes up. He heard someone coming up the stairs, by the pace it had to be Sherlock indicating he hadn't be there.

He came into the living room removing his scarf and coat, finding Helena curled on the couch. Seeing the blanket, he had deduced she didn't take the blanket herself. She would've knocked over nearly everything in sight just to find it.

"John." He called walking to the kitchen finding him eating his meal.

"Oh, there you are. Out somewhere?"

"Yes, could say that." He mumbled reaching for a toast that sat bare on the plate.

John nods and started spreading jam on his own toast, he paused sniffing it to make sure there was no odd smell. Never know what Sherlock does with the food in the fridge these days. "How come Helena took the couch?" He asks. "Decided to give up the bed?"

He bit into it wiping some crumbs off with his thumb. "No."

"No?" John looked out to the living room, then to Sherlock. He sighed and turned her head letting his hands holding the toast and knife hit the table top. "What- did you two fight?"

Sherlock swallows putting his hands in his pockets going over to his work on the other side of John. "I was tired, so I took the bed." He admitted.

A sigh escaped from the doctor, when Sherlock didn't give straight answers something was up. "Did you leave her there last night?"

He looked to John, shrugging. "Well, it was the armchair I left her in. She maneuvered her way to the couch, which is impressive considering she can't see."

Ohh, there it was, that careless demeanor. John pursed his lips at that, putting the butter knife down and bit into his toast as Sherlock finished his own keeping the crumbs off his face and fingers.

"Sherlock," He swallowed. "You were gentle with her when we saw her at the hospital, why are you being so hard on her now?" He gestured over to the room she was in. "I know you're going to compare her now to when she was when we first met her, but she wanted to go with us. Helena seems…" John shrugged looking back. "I don't know, reluctant now."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "She can't keep relying on us." He used as an excuse making John hang his head with a sigh. "Hawkeye can't let her mind rot just because she can't see. People who can't even hear can do it just as easily as her."

"But she needs to rest at times, you saw her when we got back." John argued looking up. "She was too tired to even eat her breakfast. Just let her slide this next one."

A scoffed escaped the detective's lips. "As if she would," He smirked not sensing John's thick words. "It's the last one, John. Then when she recovers-"

"If." Sherlock looked to him, John's hard eyes stared right back at him, rubbing his knuckles on the table. "If she recovers."

His tall flatmate frowned at that, "She will." he told.

"You don't know that, Sherlock."

"Neither do you, John."

"I'm a doctor."

"Shut up!"

The men went silent at the demand of the woman now awake, a thud which sounded like something hitting another object. John got up and left the kitchen to Sherlock to check her, seeing her rub her shin, the coffee table now askew.

"I sort of forgot that was there.." She grumbled putting her leg down and feeling for the table to pull it back into place.

"I got it." John assured actually moving it away a bit for her to get if need be.

Sherlock entered the room going to the tv putting it on and taking the remote. He put on the news channel taking a seat at his very own. Placing the pink phone on his left from his jacket pocket, he peeked at it now and again from the telly.

"You hungry?" John asked her, "I made-" Oh yeah, Sherlock ate her toast. "Can make you something."

"Ah, yea just toast. I sort of want to take some pain meds." She groaned rubbing her head, indicating she had an ache in there by her eyes. Helena could feel said area pulsating with pain wanting to rub her eyes.

John got up and left to make more toast, hoping they had bread left. Helena stood and managed to get around the table, out of the corner of Sherlock's eye he saw her head tilted to the tv as commercials went on. Curious, he reached for the remote at his side and pressed the mute button. Her head shot around no longer hearing it staying still in her spot. The tv was helping her indicate where she was in the room, remembering it was near the left corner by the fireplace. But Helena didn't even know what direction she was facing. Sherlock watching, she was hesitant to take any steps, more or less afraid something would be right in front of her. She was treating this as if walking through a minefield.

Now seeing this as an experiment, he unmuted the telly, giving her a chance to figure out she was indeed facing the left of it. She turned toward Sherlock and then past him pausing. One step forward, another step- the feel of the rug under her feet indicated Helena was closer to her target. Though Sherlock muted the tv again, she took another step, he looked down see her bare feet press deeply into the carpet, toes feeling as much as they could reach. He looked back up, Helena's arms reached out to her right, he saw the chair just a few inches out of her reach. Though he didn't lend a finger to help, he just pressed his index to his lips watching her thoughtfully.

Finally, he said, "Take a four inch step forward." He instructed.

Helena turned his direction, but did so following the exact number he informed and found the chair perfectly in her grasp. The end of his lip tug upwards seeing her successfully direct the chair for her to sit, with unmuting the tv she turned it to the sound crossing her legs in the chair now content with her spot.

"Here you go, Helena." John said looking to the couch, but then saw her perfectly seated in the dining chair to Sherlock's left. Doctor looked around, nothing out of place, Sherlock hadn't moved so he didn't help her there, and he didn't hear anything off from the kitchen. Maybe she was doing better.

"Three inches forward, two inches upward." Sherlock spoke now looking at the tv unmuting it. Helena took the plate from John's hands just as perfect with the chair.

okay… maybe not, John thought. He took his seat and watched the news as Sherlock turned the volume up, the news just what they needed to hear was on. There was a high-rise of flats showing a corner of the building now gone thanks to the bomb.

"The explosion, which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people-" The news anchor reported.

"Old blocks of flats." John informed glancing to Helena for a split second, she nodded biting into her toast.

"-is said to have been caused by a faulty gas main. A spokesman from the utilities company-"

"Won't people feel a bit worried or suspicious if they keep using the 'faulty gas main' excuse?" Helena asked.

Sherlock pressed two fingers to his head leaning his elbow on the left armchair. "It's the most probable accident to cause an explosion." He explained.

"_He_ certainly gets about." John sighed looking to them.

"Well, obviously I lost that round." He waved off and lifted the remote to mute once more. "Although technically I _did_ solve the case."

Helena no longer heard the telly and turned to Sherlock. He did solve it, so what caused the woman to die? Sherlock looked at Helena, she had a frown of confusion.

"He killed the old lady because she started to describe him." He explained lifting a finger. "Just once, he put himself in the firing line."

"Does that mean he has been physically seen by the other victims?" Helena asked.

"Possibly," Sherlock noted. "But they wouldn't give a description if they wanted. He might be keeping tabs on them if they do, so they won't."

"Makes sense, still it was a risk he made there." She nodded finishing her toast now feeling caught up.

John looked between the two, was he now the left out one in this? "What d'you mean?"

Sherlock looked to him. "Well, usually, he must stay above it all. He organises these things but no one ever has direct contact."

"What… like the Connie Prince murder? He-he arranged that? So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?"

Sherlock softly replied, "Novel."

John gives a bit of a disbelief look, then turned to the tv showing the news on the murder of Connie Prince. Raoul de Santos was being taken out of the home of Kenny Prince, photos and news reporters all bunched up to see anything from the scene. Helena heard nothing but a 'huh' from John as Sherlock now stared down at the phone.

"Taking his time this time." Said Sherlock.

"Anything on the Carl Powers case?" John asked.

"Nothing." He near hissed. "All the living classmates check out spotless. No connection."

"Maybe the killer was older than Carl?" John suggested.

"The thought had occurred." His eyes went back up staring into space, fingertips pressed together in front of his lips.

"Maybe not even the same school." Helena shrugged digging into her jeans for the painkillers she kept with her. Sherlock considered it as well, but dismissed it.

"So why's he doing this, then? Playing this game with you? D'you think he wants to be caught?" John questioned with knotted brows.

Helena swallowed her pill ignoring the needed fact of drinking something with it. She was fine. Sherlock gave a slight smile, "I think he wants to be distracted."

It was then John scoffs with a grimace smile and stood from the chair heading to the kitchen. "I hope you'll be very happy together."

Helena heard the sarcasm, something bothered him, though it took Sherlock some time to comprehend John's words. "Sorry, what?"

John whirled back now with an angry tone. "There are lives at stake, Sherlock!" He leaning on the back of his chair. "Actual _human_ lives! Just-just so I know, do you care about that at all?"

Sherlock gave a near glare at this question, one of those annoyed looks he gave to Molly. "Will caring about them help save them?" He countered.

"Nope."

"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake."

"And you find that easy, do you?"

"Yes, very." Sherlock paused, his brows lowered at his flat mate. Helena just turned her head back and forth as one answered as quickly as the other. "Is that news to you?"

"No." John told now thinking with a sour smile. "No."

The two stare for a good three seconds, Sherlock raised his head seeing now. "I've disappointed you."

John's 'smile' widened pointing to him. "That's good- that's a good deduction, yeah."

Sherlock saw what John wanted to see him as, it greatly bothered him. "_Don't_ make people into heroes, John." He told with slight venom in his words, Helena turned to him crossing her arms. "Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."

The two stare -or glare more like- each other down. John looks to Helena. "Does this whole thing- Helena, Does it bother you?"

Said blind tramp simply shrugged. "It isn't surprising, to say the least." John rolled his head back, hoping she'd be a little upset like him. "John," Helena sighed, "You sort of have to understand, this wouldn't work the same as the military. If that blind elderly woman was me, Sherlock would have to keep the act of caring to a zero standard."

John bit his lip, hoping that wouldn't happen and if it did, he'd have to punch Sherlock for not giving a millimeter of care if she was the victim. The fact she was blind bothered him to think it being her. Not as much as it did Sherlock though.

Helena leaned forward patting the back of his chair, "Right, Sherlock?"

"_Remind you...of anyone?"_

Before he could answer Helena, the phone beeped. Sherlock instantly picked it up seeing the photo as bips went off; one short and one long. Helena can't wait to hear the last pip and let this finally be over.

"View of the Thames. South Bank- somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo." Sherlock explains, Helena leans towards him.

"Is anything else in the photo?"

"Nope," He reached in for his own phone in his jacket.. "You check the papers; I'll look online." Helena knew it wasn't to her -ahem can't see- but when John didn't respond Sherlock countered his silence. "Oh, you're angry with me, so you won't help." John simply shrugged at him. "Not much cop, this caring lark." He clicks the 'k' at the end while searching his phone not looking back up again.

John looks to Helena who just sat silently in her set every now and then scratching her head by the gauze. She wasn't peeling it off so he let her be and walked over to the newspaper pile on the coffee table. Sherlock will be Sherlock, John had to remember that.

He skimmed about the papers while Sherlock irritably went through his searches, but was finding no help. He was growing more and more annoyed and John could tell. Between pushing Helena around and snapping at John it was getting to Sherlock. He was surprised Helena hasn't snapped back at him; something was holding her back.

"Archway suicide." John offered.

"Ten a penny." Sherlock snapped.

John threw a look to him before continuing to the next page. "Two kids stabbed in Stoke Newington."

Helena turned to that spinning the cap on her pain medicine bottle with boredom. She knew asking to help wasn't worth her breath. Maybe some tv listening will be good for today, she thought.

"Ah. Man found on the train line- Andrew West." Said John.

"Why is Mycroft so on about that Andrew West case? He knows how stubborn Sherlock is." Helena frowned now thinking why he hasn't called her. Texting could understand, no doubt he knew her current bind.

"Nothing!" Sherlock spat hitting the speed dial, the second he hears a click he talks. "It's me. Have you found anything on the South Bank between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge?"

Sherlock soon stood and grabbed his coat, scarf, pink phone and hurried down the stairs still on the phone. John stood getting his jacket as Helena just… stayed in place. The doctor looked to where Sherlock left and back to her. "You um, coming, Helena?"

Helena looked up, she honestly had zoned out. "Oh, um, yea. Just thinking where my phone is." She lied getting to her feet pocketing the pills. John spotted the said device on the coffee table, he bent down picking it up and placed it in her hand. "Thanks." Helena smiled putting it in her back pocket.

Helena would've rather be instructed to the stairs, but with Sherlock rushing out she let John help her down and out of the flat as Sherlock was climbing into a cab. The two followed in with her sitting across from them silent through the ride. John was thankful Sherlock wasn't 'demanding' for Helena to give faster directions.

* * *

The sun hung high in the sky which was surprisingly blue that day. The tall buildings at the Thames kept the sun off them only shining in the waters and bridges further down. John walking with Helena at her arm and Sherlock in lead -as always- to the body forensics had moved to a mate. The doctor felt a bit of guilt to Helena, she loves these sort of days; not a cloud in sky. She would be loving this right now.

Lestrade had been waiting for them staring down at the heavily weighted dead man found when the waters had gone to low tide. He glanced up as Sherlock was pulling on a pair of latex gloves. John staggered behind a bit as Helena was having trouble walking on the muddy, rocky terrain, at times sucking her boot in; the scowl on her lips proved to not like this area.

"D'you reckon this is connected, then? The bomber?" He asked hands on his hips.

"_Must_ be." Sherlock inwardly hoped. "Odd, though-" He held up the pink phone. "-he hasn't been in touch." He pocketed it and stepped back to get a good sight on the scene. John stood idly by, ready to inspect the body if needed.

"But we must assume that some poor bugger's primed to explode, yeah?" Lestrade guessed.

"Yes."

"The fact they haven't called, he might make it a surprise for us." Helena muttered.

"Any ideas?"

"Seven… so far."

Lestrade gave a double take to him from the body. "Seven!?"

Sherlock stepped closer squatting down careful of the ends of his coat to touch the body or muddy ground with his magnifier. Helena took in the sound of ruffling material and silence that Sherlock was inspecting the body. Silence as the grave herself, reminding that she had no word on this part of the case. More steps could he heard as he moved to her left, then the click of his magnifier and backward stepping. He jerked his head to the body looking at John, to examine it himself. The doctor gave a look to Lestrade who held his hand out allowing him to to do, be my guest, he thought.

John patted Helena on the shoulder, "One moment." He muttered, she nodded standing still as he crouched down looking over the body. Sherlock gave a few paces making Helena's head turn as he pulled his phone out, he was right back beside her.

"He's dead about twenty-four hours, maybe a bit longer." John informed, he looked up to the Inspector. "Did he drown?"

"Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated." Lestrade bent down telling him this.

"Yes, I'd agree." John nodded.

Sherlock felt a stare on him, he stole a glance to Helena who had her arms folded just blindly staring at him. His eyes shot back down the phone, "It means die of suffocation-"

"I know what it means!" She hissed wishing hard to glare or hit his arm… However far he was. Sherlock bit his tongue to keep from grinning at her.

"There's quite a bit of bruising around the nose and mouth. More bruises here and here." John told pointing to show Lestrade now on the other side of the body.

"None around the throat?" Helena asked

"Ah, no none at all." Lestrade informed.

"Fingerprints." Sherlock muttered,Helena heard as the phone continued beeping in her ear. Oh, that close she was.

"In his late thirties, I'd say." John stood. "Not in the best condition."

"He's been in the river a long while. The water's destroyed most of the data." Said Sherlock, he quirks a grin at this. "But I'll tell you one thing;" He looked to them. "that lost Vermeer painting's a fake."

Woah, Helena was so lost by that, she felt her brows not under the wrappings with a confused frown.

"What?" Lestrade gave a just as confused squint.

"We need to identify the corpses. Find out about his friends and associates-"

Lestrade held a hand up, "Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait." Sherlock paused. "What painting? What are you – what are you on about? "

"Yeah, even I'm at a lost, Sherlock." Helena agreed. "And usually I can keep track of what you say."

Sherlock looked to her, "Then keep better track." He turned back to Lestrade, Helena sighed. "It's all over the place. Haven't you seen the posters? Dutch Old Master, supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago; now it's turned up. Worth thirty million pounds." He explained.

"Okay," Lestrade nodded. "So what has _that_ got to do with the stiff?"

Sherlock released his grin. "_Everything_. Have you ever heard of the Golem?"

Helena perked up, "Golem?" The DI repeated.

"It's a horror story, isn't it?" John inquired. "What are you saying?"

"Jewish folk story." Sherlock indicated. "A gigantic man made of clay. It's also the name of an assassin- real name Osker Dzundza- one of the deadliest assassins in the world." He pointed to the body, "_That_ is his trademark style."

"So this is a hit?"

"Yes," Helena felt Sherlock's hand on her back. "anything on this, Helena? You got around, any word on the Golem?"

The tramp licked her lips, digging into her memory. "Well, a few years back, I heard about a man with the name who could be seen within some areas of the homeless community. He would shift location to location, keeping the eyes of society off of him."

"Exactly." Sherlock's hand left her back. "The Golem squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands."

"But what has this gotta do with that painting?" Sherlock throw his head back at this. "I don't see-"

"You do _see_, you just don't _observe_."

"All right, all right, girls, calm down." John stepped in, the boys grew quiet making Helena smirk imagining their faces at that chosen word. "Sherlock? D'you wanna take us through it?"

Sherlock stepped back around Helena, her head following him. "What do we know about this corpse? The killer's not left us with much – just the shirt and the trousers. They're pretty formal – maybe he was going out for the night, but the trousers are heavy-duty, polyester, nasty, same as the shirt – cheap. They're both too big for him, so some kind of standard-issue uniform. Dressed for work, then. What _kind_ of work? There's a hook on his belt for a walkie-talkie."

"Tube-driver?" Lestrade guessed only to earn a look from the detective.

John took a stab at, "Security guard?"

"More likely." He nodded to him. "That'll be borne out by his backside."

"Backside!?"

"Flabby. You'd think that he's led sedentary life, yet the soles of his feet and the nascent varicose veins in his legs show otherwise. So, a lot of walking _and_ a lot of sitting around. Security guard's looking good. And the watch helps, too. The alarm shows he did regular night shifts."

"Why regular?" Lestrade asked. "Maybe he just set his alarm like that the night before he died."

Helena by now knelt down, with a sigh. She could understand why Lestrade and John would suggest otherwise. But at the same time the more he explains the more it made sense. She was sure he was to get to his point; getting to her feet Helena decided to wander unsighted. It wasn't hard to tell which was toward the tide and toward the pier John helped her down before. The rocks of different sizes and shapes made her take a challenge to balance her feel angling side to side. It almost felt like walking on air- only the clouds were as bumpy as the gravel roof tops.

She was feeling less lost as she continued onward, the sound of others walking by helped her know she wasn't going too far from the crime scene. Hell, she could still hear Sherlock, though she didn't plan to wander too off.

"I'd better get my feelers out for this Golem character." Lestrade sighed tucking his hands on his hips.

"Pointless. You'll never find him." Sherlock told. "But I know a man who can."

"Who?"

"Me." He grinned and turned taking his leave.

John sighed turned to Hele- Wait. "..Lestrade, where's..?"

The D.I. looked around, and stopped seeing Sherlock heading in her direction. "There she is," He pointed.

John sighed and jogged to catch up, as Sherlock shoot past Helena making her stop in her tracks. He caught up, taking her hand gently and leading her up the steps to the dock without a word from her. Though John didn't question her on why she walked away, it did cross his curiosity that she had simply walked off since the hospital.

* * *

In the cab, same seats as before, Sherlock was now glaring at the pink phone. Helena was now entertaining herself swaying side to side, at first John thought she wasn't feeling well. But she admitted she was simply bored, her usual excuse.

"Why hasn't he phoned? He's broken his pattern. Why?" Sherlock kept tapping the phone against his knee.

"Maybe he's preparing something big, or feels you can't handle another hostage from the last one." Helena shrugged.

"No.." He hissed leaning forward past Helena's head. "Waterloo Bridge."

"Where now? the Gallery?" John asked, Helena rubbed her ear.

"In a bit." Sherlock went into his coat taking out his small notebook and pen.

"The Hickman's contemporary art, isn't it? Why have they got a hold of an Old Master?" John pondered.

"Dunno." Sherlock gave scribbling something into his notebook. "Dangerous to jump to conclusions. Need data."

As he wrote, John keep looking over curious to see what he was he writing. Though given the chance it was gone by Sherlock tearing the paper out and folding it with a banknote.. Helena turned hearing the paper, but then faced the window once more. He put the folded papers into his pocket, the drive going silent again.

Helena's head buzzed begging to know what street she was on and the routes the driver was taking. The fact she didn't even know the time of day was driving her up a wall inside.

"Stop!"

Jumping at Sherlock's call, the car pulled over to the right. "You wait here." He told her leaving the car, "I won't be a moment." John scampered out calling Sherlock who nimbly bound over the railings, the door slammed shut.

With a sigh, now even John leaving her behind, the thought occurred that it had before hand yesterday. Helena stood, pressed on the opposite seat to help her maneuver to the door, she there felt the notebook of Sherlock's with the pen.

"Change?" Asked the homeless girl as Sherlock and John trotted up the steps. She had a bag beside her along with the usual cardboard sign reading 'hungry and homeless'. She seemed pretty fine perched on the bench as Sherlock spotted her. A girl in the homeless network.

"Any change?"

"What for?" Sherlock asks sauntering over.

"Cup of tea, of course." The girl answers.

Sherlock pulled the paper from his pocket handing it out to her. "Here you go; fifty."

She gives a smile, "Thanks."

John who was idly by, was lost once again as Sherlock tightened the coat around him. "What are you doing?"

Sherlock turned back, "Investing." and continued down the steps with John behind.

The girl unfolded the banknote reading the paper, she looked up where he left to. Sherlock needed information; two important things.

Leaping over the railings again, Sherlock informs John opening the cab door, "Now we go to the Gallery." But looking inside, Helena wasn't there. He leaned back out looking around, she was in no site.

"What's up?" John asked, then looking through the window seeing it empty as well. John peeked in, then to the driver's window knocking on it who lowered it. "There was a girl back here, with bandages? Where-where did she go?"

"She asked me if there was any alleyways, I told her that there and she ran off." He pointed across the street, they followed in sight seeing a narrow passageway.

John went around the car to go after, but Sherlock tugged his arm back. "Let her go," He pulled his notebook out, seeing some scribble on a page he didn't leave. '221b not feel well' It was written sloppy which was understanding with her not seeing her writing.

"But she can't see, Sherlock!" John argued turning around in place hands going through his short hair. "God, she doesn't even know where she is."

"She has eyes from the sky, but others got eyes on her. She can handle herself." He told pocketing his pen and notebook. "Have you got any cash?"

Without an answer, Sherlock climbed into the car. John with extreme hesitation, hissed out a 'damn' and followed in slamming the door. The cab gave a look through his mirror as Sherlock nodded him to continue driving.

"I can't believe you're letting her go with a bomber on the loose." John grumbled sitting across from his flatmate.

"Finding a lot of things shocking from me today, aren't you." Sherlock retorted.

"You keep saying that, but she obviously isn't. When she first got out of the hospital, she was her usual self- making jokes to her accident." Sherlock's eyes shifted to him holding an even gaze with John.

"I'm keeping tabs on her, just her wandering off at the crime scene shows she's eager to leave again."

There was almost contempt in his words when mentioning her leaving the boys after her recovering. John would almost go as far as guessing, Sherlock kept her by to keep her from leaving. He always mentioned it, like he was reminding himself. But the thought was thrown out remembering what he said about this morning.

"_Will caring about them help save them?"_

"_Nope."_

"_Then I'll continue not to make that mistake."_

"_And you find that easy, do you?"_

"_Yes, very."_

John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wished he could contact Helena, calling could work.

* * *

"Well, didn't get far…" Helena sighed now sitting on a bench…. who knows where. Looking to be pouting, the tramp just stared forward almost expecting Sherlock or John to look for her. But hoped they didn't, there was the case to solve and that was important, Helena knew it.

"Woah, check this out!" Whispered a young male voice, few others snickered as she heard steps closing in on the pavement.

"Can she see?" One asked, waving a hand in her face, Helena kept still.

"Well she certainly can't hear us." Another chuckled.

The same male teen who waved in her face was now making faces right in front of her face. His friends laughed at this, finding this humorous. Though the laughter was killed when her head went ramming straight into his knocking him onto the ground with a groan.

"Oww!" He cried rubbing his head, as his nose started to drip blood.

"I think she saw you." One mumbled.

"I hear too." Helena hissed getting to her feet, the teens let out a sound and fled the scene. "Great to know people care…" She sighed turning opposite direction deciding to keep moving.

Keeping herself straight so far, Helena thought she heard a car pull up beside her. She stopped, hearing a car engine right beside her. Tilting her head, she continued… as did the car. Her feet stopped, the car stopped. With a throw of her head back, she gave an exasperated sigh, the door opened, someone's hand on her back.

"Go ahead." She shrugged, not caring at this point in time. Helena allowed the person to lead them to the car, she climbed in with the presumed male sitting beside her. The car started off into the main road, where it went Helena will not know.

* * *

**Thanks Lyra Devereaux** **and TimeLordCompanion** **for the reviews! I honestly didn't expect them after my little April Fools day chapter prank. I usually never do anything for it, so I know cancelling a story never works so why not post a 'new' chapter! Thanks for following and support along with everyone else! Also have a great Good Friday and Easter Sunday!**


	13. Chapter 13

"Took you long enough to fetch me." Helena gave a sly grin towards him.

Mycroft gave a sarcastic chuckle. "It's hard when your leash grows tighter." He teased.

Helena shook her finger at him and leaned back crossing her arms. "Trust me, I wish I had left the flat yesterday. With you not contacting me-"

"Texting is pointless as is calling. Wouldn't want dear Sherlock finding us out, yes?" He recalled tapping his thumb on the cane of his umbrella. Helena huffed at him, not admitting he was right.

Helena wished to glare him. "Is it a big deal if he finds out? He will- or probably knows now."

"You're the one who hides it from him."

"Shut up." She pouted slouching in her seat.

Mycroft shook his head at her, "So, when will they be removed?"

She turned away with a frown. "Do we have to talk about that?"

"Well, we can talk about Sherlock." He inquired with a snarky grin.

"Fine, we'll talk about my eyes." Helena groaned sitting up. "I get them removed as soon as these cases are done."

"Hmm.." Mycroft took his phone out to send a text. "How was it exactly you hurt your eyes, Hawkeye?"

With a bite of her lip, Helena softly shook her head. "I know you know, Mycroft. You know everything."

"Well, not everything."

"Yes, everything."

"And Sherlock knows?"

She sighed, "..Yeah, he sort of tricked me into telling him. I doubt he has the time to investigate it though so I'm letting it slide."

"Did you forget who my brother is?" Mycroft slid his phone back in his vest pocket.

"How can I not? It's hard to when he's reminding me what a prick he is." Helena hissed leaning her head on the car window. She already took in that they were just driving around with no location in mind.

Mycroft tilted his head back slightly at this. "You have such a sharp tongue, why hold back?" Helena didn't respond, she didn't want Mycroft of all people to know how she had felt with this for the past few days. He's just as worse as Sherlock, and just as careless.

"I Thought I was just to tell you Sherlock's updates, not my own." She retorted.

"That's on hold now with your condition correct-"

"Why did you pick me up, Mycroft?" Helena snapped, cutting the elder Holmes to silence. "If it's to update on Sherlock, he won't look into that Westie case you keep pestering him about. He's been lodged with cases in and out."

Mycroft stared at her pursing his lips in thought of her words, fingers no longer tapping his umbrella. "Well, at least I'm officially updated."

"You're welcome." She sighed, dropping her hands to her lap. Some silence passed between the two, horns and cars passing by could be heard outside. "I bet you would know."

"Know ever what?" Mycroft asked in sickly sweet tone.

"You know- how I got hurt." Helena pointed at her head. "You did know where to find me after all."

The government man scoffed, "That's the jurisdiction of my dear brother, Helena."

"..Don't I wish I could roll my eyes at you." Mycroft smirked at her words. "I was hoping to find Trevor and ask him. He saw it happen."

"Are you so sure?" He asked raising his head.

Helena frowned. "Um, yeah. He took me to the hospital and got John and Sherlock-" She could feel Mycroft's doubtful look on her, it wasn't hard. "Never mind." Not in the mood to argue.

The car had then stopped causing Helena to sit up from the window, traffic? "Make sure to contact me once your sight returns. Sherlock needs someone to keep an eye on him."

"Are you only getting on my case cause you're paying me to watching Sherlock compared to John?" She teased raising a brow.

"Of course not-" The door opened as Mycroft finished, "Sherlock doesn't take to 'losing' pets very well."

Helena paused from leaving the car, thinking on his words. She waved him off and climbed out, "Baker Street, miss." The man to be Mycroft's driver informed her.

"Thank you." She muttered turning back to the car heading the door shut, window sliding down. "I'll try to inform you more."

"I'd hope. Until we meet again, Helena." The window rose up slowly as the car drove off leaving Helena to herself.

Now… where's the door?

* * *

Sherlock soon returned to Baker Street still in the security uniform, he rushed out of the museum coat loosely around him and scarf in his pocket with his gloves. Leaving the cab that drove off, he found Helena sitting on the step, chin in her hands while elbows leaned on her knees. Before giving her the acknowledge that he was there, Sherlock took his mobile out checking to see if she called him. No calls or texts came from her, but one from his brother.

**Don't let your pet off the leash**

**Found her astray**

**-MH**

Giving a scowl he put the phone away and stepped up, tapping the top of her head, getting his keys with the other hand. Helena jumped at the touch, "Sherlock?"

"The one and only." He gave unlocking the door, she stood letting her enter first. "Waiting long?"

"Matters, where's the sun?" Helena asked hearing him shut the door behind him and take lead at the stairs.

Sherlock let her take her time on the stairs but kept up well. "Setting."

"Then I have no bloody idea." She chuckled gripping the railing as she ascended up to the flat. "Two hours at best."

Sherlock 'hmm'ed as they got to the flat. Helena found herself the couch and plopped onto it. The detective threw his coat and scarf off undoing the security shirt buttons. Helena couldn't see so he decided to change his shirt there, honestly not caring if she knew or not.

"How's the painting case going?" She asked rubbing her arms, sitting in the cold like that waiting had gotten to her.

"If you had been there-"

"Well I wasn't, so fill me in already." Helena quickly told bounding her foot on her knee.

Sherlock looked to her as he tossed the security shirt onto John's chair and took his own shirt slipping it on. "I was just at the museum to see the painting; the fake one."

"And John is where?" She asked, "You didn't leave him behind again, right?"

"No, I.." As Sherlock buttoned up his white dress shirt, leaving the top open as usual. "By any chance, do you know how to use a gun?" He asked tucking his shirt in properly.

Helena raised a brow at that. "That was a bit out of the blue. But to answer; no I don't. Why?"

"I think you should learn to use a gun accordingly for protection." He explained tossing his suit jacket on and buttoning it close. "Until you recover of course."

Helena scowled a bit at him, did he think she was weak or would become vulnerable after she heals? Or was he just being… kind?

"Why do you think that? Isn't my self defense good enough?" She questioned.

"What should happen if face to face with a gun?"

Ah, that thought was what got him to ask. Helena, stubborn as always, stood with a huff. "Simply kick it out of their hand."

Sherlock, curious to what she'd do, strode over to her side and shaped his hand as a gun pointing his index and middle against her temple. "How about now?" He questioned.

Helena took a breath; her hand shot up to his wrist though she didn't move it from her head, instead she raised her elbow of her other arm and slammed it down on his arm, thus disarming his 'gun' from the now forming bruise on his arm. Sherlock let her win that one, wanting to see what she would do. She did know how to slightly disable someone from their gun.

"What about from a distance?" He took a few steps back pointing at her again. "I'm at a ten feet distance, too far to disable my weapon."

Helena growled at him. "That doesn't count if I can't see."

"It counts no matter the situation. You are ten feet away, gun pointed at you; what do you do?" Sherlock questions again thickly growing impatient with her.

"I'm not playing your rules." She spat.

"Never said it was my rules; to games like this there are no rules." Sherlock made the sound of a gun fire, indicating his 'handgun' had shot her. "Only life and death are the rules." He went to retrieve his coat, scarf, along with John's pistol. Sure, he could've put a real gun to her head.

Helena didn't respond, she was growing highly frustrated from him. It could be the fact she was taking her anger out on him from her sight, but with how he's been this week didn't help. Or that it made her remember her father. "I will never use the same weapon that killed my beloved father." She choked out with clenched fists. "Don't you have a damn case to solve?"

"Oh, there is." He checked the watch on his wrist. "And it's time to go. So, come on." Sherlock tugged her arm toward the door gently leading her with a hand on her back to the stairs.

"Whoa, what- what do you need me for?" Helena tried to stop the pushing Sherlock gave, holding the railing to keep from going any further downstairs. "I can't see a _damn_ thing! What use will I be!?"

"In due time, now get moving." He demanded taking her hands off the railing and getting her down the stairs.

Finally out of the flat with the night sky during all to dark, Sherlock spotted the homeless girl a bit down the road to his left. "Alright," He turned to her. "we're outside, it's dark just by the fact how cold it's gotten, nowhere to?" Helena asked, temper flaring.

A taxi cab pulled up by the flat, John emerges. He spots Sherlock but also Helena beside him with a frown. He was relieved she was alright, but from her body language she was not in the mood to converse with. What had Sherlock said this time? None the less he had to inform the detective.

"Ales Woodbridge didn't know anything special about art." John informed.

"And?" Sherlock urged.

"And.." John didn't know what else to tell him.

Sherlock glanced to Helena and then to the girl asking for spare change. "Is that it? No habits, hobbies, personality?" He asks stepping back towards her.

"No, give us a chance!" John quickly told. "He was an amateur astronomer."

Sherlock stopped at that; that had to be something there. "Hold that cab." He ordered pointing to it as he goes to the girl.

Helena had found the can and leaned on it as John walked back to the drier. "Can you wait here?" He asked looking back to Sherlock who talked with the girl from earlier that day.

"Spare change, sir?" She asks.

"Don't mind if I do." He responds taking a piece of paper she offered to him.

Two things were scribbled onto the paper; 'VAUXHALL ARCHES' to find the Golem and 'TREVOR DALTON' to locate said man. With a short smile, he walks back to John and Helena.

"Fortunately, I _haven't_ been idle." Sherlock opens the cab door letting Helena in first then himself. Come on." He called to John who climbed in last before the taxi drove off.

* * *

Vauxhall- the location of which Sherlock was to find Golem. The trio has left the car, Sherlock and John in lead with Helena surprisingly following behind hearing their footsteps against the concrete. The military doctor had offered his arm, but she declined saying she could hear them close enough to walk alone. Sherlock buttoned his coat, eyes gazing upwards at the night sky.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He asked taking his phone out.

John looks up as well seeing the dense star field- he had never seen such a sight in London before. Helena who was a bit shocked Sherlock called something 'beautiful' urged to turn her head to wherever direction he was directing the comment to. Oh yeah- blind.

"I thought you didn't care about things li-"

"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it." Sherlock countered to John putting said device away.

John decides to put that aside. "Listen; Alex Woodbridge had a message on the answerphone at his flat. A Professor Cairns?"

"This way." Sherlock instructed loud enough for Helena to hear as she heard his steps turn left she jogged a bit to keep up.

"Nice." John commented turning with them. "Nice part of town."

"Hey, remember who's walking with you here, John." Helena hissed at him feeling offended by his words. "Vauxhall is one of the places the police haven't chased 'us' out yet."

He mumbled a sorry, clearing his throat as the tree made it to tunnel with fire light going against the walls. "Any time you wanna explain, Sherlock?"

"Homeless network- really is indispensable." He told pausing at the archway, Helena stopped just at his side before she could bump into him.

John fished out his small flashlight switching it on. "Homeless network. You've mentioned that before- Helena is part of it, yes?"

"Indeed." She confirmed.

"My eyes and ears all over the city. Helena being my hawk of London." He grinned to her who just turned to him with 'innocent' look.

"Oh, that's clever." John told who to Helena sounded distracted. "So you scratch their backs and-"

"Yes, then I disinfect myself."

Helena reached out to Sherlock's arm, once she found him she slapped at that comment. "Arse."

Sherlock shrugs her off taking his own flashlight and flicking it on shining it down the tunnel as he entered. Helena stayed still not hearing any other footsteps, John tugged her arm sleeve to follow, and keeping hold as it was dark even with their lights. It's soon pitch black, as Helena at times feels her feet hitting stray bottles and her nudging into carts or tin cans. People were spotted with the lights caught checking their possessions, or curling up their best to be warm for the night. The three didn't speak, though John was sure it was best Helena didn't see the struggle of this small community to fight the cold tonight.

In the distance where a light was hitting against the wall, a tall lanky like shadow of a man could be seen standing up. He succeeds even past Sherlock's own height. John spots him, "Sherlock!" He calls in a hushed tone.

"Come on!" The two duck to the side getting Helena against the wall with them. Sherlock watches as he slowly straightens his seven foot tall figure from being on the ground.

"What's he doing sleeping rough?" John whispers keeping a hand on Helena's arm whose breathing had hitched unable to see what they see.

"Remember what Helena said back at the Thames? He has a very distinctive look. He has to hide somewhere where tongues won't wag- much." Sherlock explained peering back around the corner.

John looked down at his pockets feeling his weapon wasn't on him. "Oh shit.."

"What?"

"I wish I'd-"

Sherlock produced his gun from his coat pockets handing them to John. "Don't mention it."

The second John takes the gun, Sherlock looks to see the man break into a run down another tunnel. The boys bolt down the tunnel to catch him, Helena trailing behind assuming they ran off said tunnel. But when Sherlock got there, the man clambered into the back of a car that looked to have been waiting for him and sped out tired screeching and smoking through their exit.

"No, no, no _no!_" Sherlock yelled giving a swing of his fist in frustration as Helena spun about trying to figure out what happened.

"Where'd he go?" She questioned, she heard tires screeching so he must have gotten away in a car.

"I don't know!" he barked at her. "It'll take us _weeks_ to find him again!"

"If it took you that short of a conquest to find him at all- you're bloody exaggerating." Helena told.

"Guys-"

Sherlock spun in her direction. "It's not like we have my eyes of London to help, do we?"

"Sherlo-"

"Do you think I'm doing this to spite you!?"

"Hey!" The two looked to John who had been trying to get their attention. "It might not take long at all. I have an idea where he might be going."

"What?" Sherlock squinted at him.

"I told you; someone left Alex Woodbridge a message. There can't be _that_ many Professor Cairns in the book. Come on." For once John took lead to get a cab.

Sherlock followed turning back to Helena who stood there. He strode over to her taking her hand, only to have her snatch it out of his grasp. "I can follow fine." She hissed and walked past him to join John close behind him.

Sherlock let a sharp sigh out and for once was the one to trail behind.

* * *

They soon arrived there, the trio reaching the back door to wish Sherlock got open easier than expected. The only sound in the whole building was from the planetarium's theatre, the sound system of the film played for the audience. Sherlock found the back stage as a woman's voice called to someone named Tom but no answer. The Golem was here.

Sherlock turned back to Helena keeping her by the door. "Stay here, and stay low."

"What, but-"

The sound of the audio going full speed made them all turn, the Golem had attacked the woman at the mixer. Her struggling muffled screams could even be heard. Before Helena could give another word, the boys sprung into action going to the stage.

"Golem!" Sherlock called with John aiming his gun at him.

Helena peeked out, despite not seeing anything the sound would hopefully help her. But only the sound of a bone snapping make her get lower to the ground, wherever she was hiding. Was that the Golem? Did he kill that woman?

The audio of the film sounded out of control going from speed high pitch to normal then slow downed. Even the lights went off, not helping the boys at all, when they flickered back on Golem was somewhere in the darkness.

"John!"

"I can't see him. I'll go around. I'll go!" John yelled as his running thudded against the stage.

The lights kept flickering on and off, Sherlock didn't move, hoping to spot him somewhere in the upper seats. "Who are you working for this time, Dzundza?" He asked loudly. Little did he know, said seven foot beast was right behind him.

By now when Helena started hearing Sherlock struggle she knew the Golem had him. She clawed at her bandages wishing to removed and help him, he was going to kill them! Just that they couldn't see from the lights she guessed gave Golem the advantage. Deciding they weren't going to come off, she sprinted to the sound as quietly as she could be- she had to help.

"Golem!" Came John's voice, as he aimed the now cocked gun steadily at the Golem's head. "Let him go, or I _will_ kill you."

That statement alone helped Helena determined where everyone was, hearing the clunking of his shoes a few feet to her right, she ran off taking a dive and found herself ramming into his side. It wasn't enough to knock him over, but it did let Sherlock go. Sadly it gave him a chance to kick the gun out of John's had shocked to see her there. The Golem found her small figure an annoyance, he swung at her giving her a upper cut launching her back to the ground harshly. She coughed when her back hit the floor rolling to her side in attempt to get up, hoping her jaw wasn't broken by that hit.

While she tried to recover, Dzundza wrestled with John as Sherlock hit the floor at the release. John knew he wasn't to win, after earning a kick to the rib, as Sherlock gets to his feet, the Golem shoved John at him sending them both to the floor once again. Sherlock gets to his feet first and tries to take a boxing stance to fight back.

Helena groaned getting to her feet, the film was loud making it hard to determine where everyone was. Some struggling was heard, but another thud. Whose then though, but the sound of struggling still it couldn't be the Golem. From her ramming his tall stature, it would've been louder and heavier. More thuds come, this time two. The boys it sounded like, Helena had to take the chance. She found her feet and ran at full speed, she was hoping to find someone, and it would be the Golem.

Her body collided with something, as she latched onto the thin waist only to be kicked off in her gut making her lay back to the floor again.

Sherlock hoped Helena had slowed him down enough get a bullet in him. He fired two shots finding John's gun, but Dzundza ran out the doors without a scratch.

Damn. _Damn!_ He slammed his hand down onto the floor in full anger, he had him! Now he was gone and the other person who know was dead. Back to bloody square one.

"Helena!" John called through winced getting to his feet, the collisions with Sherlock hurt more than he thought it would.

"H-Here…" She gave softly rolling to her stomach to get on her hands and knees.

Sherlock searched up at the mixer turning the lights on and the film off, checking the elder woman; her neck was broken. John finally found her with the lights and knelt down to her placing an arm around her shoulders. "Are you alright- bloody hell. He did a number on you."

Her chin had a growing bruise and she was sure her stomach would to, but her ribs felt fine. "Sounds like he gave you guys one too.." He helped her to her feet, not hearing Sherlock. "..Did you shoot him?"

John looked to Sherlock who still was upset, no- down right cross. He had a lead to find how the painting was a fake. Between that and no phone call from the bomber, Sherlock's patience was all but gone.

The silence was a good answer to Helena, she sighed. "...Sorry." She mumbled getting to her feet rubbing her sore jaw.

"Don't be, it wasn't yours or anyone's fault." John assured checking her out for any other injuries. She would heal fine, he looked to Sherlock seeing up no on his phone calling someone.

Helena's heart felt heavy, how many times must she prove to Sherlock how useless she is?

* * *

It was a cloudy next morning, and the trio hadn't slept. Sherlock called Lestrade to report the Professor's death and to confront about the painting at Hickman Gallery. John informed Lestrade what happened, though Greg showed his concern, the doctor assured they were alright.

Now they all stood in front of said facade painting with Miss Wenceslas who keeps telling them the painting is real. Sherlock was on his phone to look up what made the painting a fake- no call has been made yet. Helena stood to the side arms around herself, she could feel the tense anger Sherlock was giving, she wanted to keep her distance from it.

"It's a fake. It _has_ to be." Sherlock kept repeating not wanting doubt to enter his mind as he searched on his phone.

"That painting has been subjected to every test known to science." Wenceslas argued.

"It's a very good fake then." He spun to glare at her. "You _know_ about this, don't you? This is _you_, isn't it?"

She gave an irritated smile with hands on her hips, then turned to Lestrade. "Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself and friends out?"

At that moment the pink phone rang gaining everyone's attention. Sherlock answered it on speaker for the voice to be heard by all. "The painting is a fake."

Helena stepped closer hearing the faint breathing over the speaker, but no one spoke. Was it the bomber or another hostage?

"It's a fake. That's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed." Still just breathing.

"Does the bomber want proof?" Helena asked.

Sherlock glanced to her, "Oh, come on. Proving it's just the detail." then to the phone. "The painting is a fake. I've solved it. I've figured it out." His voice grew louder. "It's a fake! That's the answer. That's why they were killed."

There still refused to be a response. Helena swallowed thickly, placing a hand on his arm holding the phone, everyone watched him. Sherlock took a breath to calm down once she made contact with him.

"Okay, I'll prove it." Helena let him go hearing him speak calmer. "Give me time. Will you give me time?"

Some silence, then a voice. "Ten."

Helena's heart felt like it stopped with her breathing; a boy, a little boy. He sounded scared- no terrified. Young, no more than nine.

"It's a kid." Lestrade confirmed shocked. "Oh, God, it's a _kid_!"

"What did he say?" John asked not hearing the proper word.

"Ten." Sherlock repeated now scanning the painting as fast as he could to find the error.

"Nine…"

Oh lord, the child was counting down. Ten seconds… This child will die if Sherlock didn't-

The news this morning; Sherlock failing to save the old woman rushed through her mind. He can save this boy right? Right!? He had to! Just find what makes it a fake.

"Eight.."

She could only hear the voice of the boy, images of her own precious little brother flood her brain, seeing him as the hostage caused fear to run through her body. Helena shook her head, hands at her hair, no! Sherlock will find the answer. Her feet leading her backwards away from everyone.

"This kid will die. _Tell _me why the painting is a fake! _Tell me!_" Sherlock demanded at Miss Wenceslas.

"Seven.."

Crouching to the floor, she tried to block the feeling. Why a child!? This poor boy was to possibly die. Her breathing was becoming heavy, sweat down her face.

"Six…"

Tears stung her padded wrapped eyes but they kept coming despite it hurt. Just hearing Sherlock struggle was scaring her alone. Please, hurry!"

"Five.."

"He's speeding up!" Lestrade called.

"Sherlock." John urged.

"Please, please, please, please…" Helena begged pressing the palms of her hands deep into her eye sockets as tears were soaked into the cotton over her lids.

"Oh!"

"Four…"

"In the Planetarium! You heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!" Sherlock voice now in that tone made Helena realize he discovered it, her head shot up.

"Three…

"What's brilliant? What is?" John questioned.

"This is beautiful. I love this!" Sherlock cooed.

"Two.."

Helena's voice screamed out, "_SHERLOCK!_"

"The Van Buren Supernova!"

There was a pause, one that made everyone refuse to make a sound. The voice returns, "Please. Is somebody there?" Sherlock releases a held out breath. "Somebody help me!"

"There you go." He handed the pink phone to Lestrade who was glaring at how he 'timed' that too close. "Go find out where he is and pick him up." He none the less took it and walked off to find where the child was.

Sherlock and John shared a look, ready to explain how he knew. "The Van Buren Supernova, so-called." He held his phone up over his shoulder so Miss Wenceslas could see the screen. "Exploding star, only appeared in the sky in eighteen fifty-eight." He tosses a jubilant look before taking his leave to where Lestrade had gone.

John stepped up taking a look, relieved with a sigh for himself. "So how could it have been painted in sixteen forties?" He grins and looked to her as well then to the picture again. "That was amazing, eh Helena?" John looked to her direction, but no one was there. He spun around trying to find her in the large room. "Helena?"

His phone gave out a text alert. He took it out, giving it a short read.

**My patience is**

**wearing thin.**

**-MH**

John grows slightly at it being Mycroft again and looked up. "Oh Sherl-" He turns his phone off and scurries off. Maybe she was with him and Lestrade. Miss Wenceslas stepped up staring at the painting in utter shock.

* * *

Outside, in the cold morning dark cloudy air, sniffling and shaking. Tears kept pouring out, the cotton wet no longer able to soak the salty liquid now down her cheeks and dripping down her chin. Shriveled up outside the Hickman Gallery, Helena was crying, her body shaking racked with the event that had just occurred. Thanks to Sherlock that boy was safe, but his damned timing was too much for her.

Releasing another sob, hiding her face in her hands- oh God, how she wished she could see just to go check on him. Sure it wasn't him, but it would make her feel so much better to know he was safe and well at home.

"Curtis…" Helena whimpered out.

"Hey, you alright?" A male voice asked.

Helena sniffled, "Y-Yes. Please leave me be."

She felt the male figure knelt beside her, "You sure? Those tears say another thing." He teased softly. Helena jumped to her feet shifting away wiping her cheeks furiously. "No wait- Hawkeye?"

She stopped turning back, "...Trevor?"

Arms wrapped around her with a sudden shudder of a sigh from Trevor. She hadn't seen him since she got hurt, the thought of his worry never came to mind. Guilt now entered. "Thank God! I thought- I-I thought something happened! I mean- I never saw you around again, until I heard at Vauxhall that someone saw you wandering about with that Sherlock fellow."

"O-Oh, yeah. It's-" She sniffled wiping her nose on her jacket sleeve. "It's part of a case he's doing."

Trevor took his hat off and placed it on her own feeling how cold she was. "Then why are you out here?" He the feel of gauze on her head. Was it wrapped? His fingers trailed them around her head feeling they were covering her eyes, he lifted her chin -to which she winced at from that earlier hit- seeing in the street light she was bandaged.

"...Oh, oh no, Hawk.." He whispered seeing the damaged it had done her. "I'm so sorry." Trevor's hand touched the side of her face, it hurt to see her like this. "...It's not.. p-permanent, is it?"

Helena let out a shaky sigh, "...I won't know until they are removed. Tomorrow at most.. Or when the case is over. I might have to change my name if-"

"_No!_" Hands grabbed her shoulder suddenly as he barked that out. She looked up at Trevor in shock from his outburst. "You won't lose your sight! So help me, if that does I…"

Helena gave a weary smile, she raised a hand up his arm finding the soft cheek of his finding the usual grime he could never clean off. "What would I do without you?" She could feel his cheeks rise as his lips widened to a smile.

"Come on, I'll take you back to that Sherlock bloke." He insisted moving her hand to lock onto his arm. "Is he inside here?"

"..Actually, can you take me back to the community?" She asked softly putting her other hand to hug his arm, he looked down to her. "..I sort of miss them, I want to give them a surprise hello. Assure them I'm doing alright."

His eyes studied her for a moment, he smiled at her words. "Sure, thing. They do indeed miss you."

* * *

If you all know how much of a Feels Devil I am, you can guess how excited I was to write that bit- or bits. Sakura Fest in Philly, PA is Sunday the 12th of this month. If your going there, keep an eye out for my group and I! I'll be Suzaku with my Princess Euhpemia from Code Geass.


	14. Chapter 14

**I never added credit it, but thanks to this person for writing a **_**beautifully **_**detailed ****script ****of the whole Sherlock series! I wouldn't be able to do this without it! (and you readers as well! Thanks for the love!)**

* * *

"This is where she was last seen?" Sherlock asked looking around as the area.

"Yup, Trevor said this was here it happened." The homeless man of thirty-two, Nick, told as he lead him under the highway as cars loudly sped by. "Sorry I couldn't find Trevor, he's usually hanging around here with Hawkeye away."

"Does he now?" Sherlock gazed about finding the said outdoor furnace where she said was as described. He approached it, but with caution not wanting to recreate what she did.

"Yup." He answered. "Though isn't here today. He might be off getting food, he should return." He assured.

"Is Trevor as skillful as Hawkeye?" Sherlock asked tapping his knuckle against the metal.

The man laughed, "God no!" He looked over, as the man smiled. "Trevor's a good kid, Hawk was his first friend when he lost his career. Been attached to her ever since."

"How long?" Sherlock asked taking a flashlight from his pocket.

"Ahh, hmm…" He crossed his arms thinking. "About four years, he was twenty-two. After that, his whole life fell apart."

Sherlock turned back to the furnace, he gave it a kick earning a ringing sound. He turned the flashlight on and shot the light inside, it was covered in black, no doubt from that explosion on Helena. Question was, what caused it. Deeming it safe, he slowly peeked inside scanning as much as his eyes strained to see.

Oh, something was shining on the bottom. He went into his tool kit getting his kit, taking out a small plastic dish and scalpel. Sherlock held the dish under as he scraped residue into the dish not wanting to touch whatever it was. Taking a look through the dish, it was indeed a dust residue of a metal. He'd remember to examine them later.

In case he found anything else, he scoured how hands abound the bottom feeling a small object, he pulled it out seeing it was an electric lighter.. "Someone forgot something.." He grinned and pocketed it as well.

"Oh hey, there he is Mr. Holmes." Sherlock turned forgetting the filthy man was with him seeing the young boy Trevor trotting over. "Trevor!" The man and waving his hand in the air.

Trevor couldn't see Sherlock at the angle instantly assuming Nick was there alone. "Hey, what are you doing here?" He approached Nick as Sherlock walked up behind him. "It's a bit dangerous here."

"Is it now?" Trevor gulped at the voice, Nick wasn't alone as he thought. He turned around seeing the tall detective smirk grimly at him. "Hello, Trevor."

"..Mr. Holmes." He greeted with a small glare. "What are you poking your nose around here for?"

Nick came over, "Calm boy, he's just here to find out how Hawkeye got hurt." he assured.

Trevor looked to Nick then wiped back to Sherlock. "Is he now?" Trevor shoved his hands into his back pockets. "Anything on what happened to her?"

"Well, you were there, '_Trev_' surely your side of the story could help. Since Helena-"

"Hawkeye." he corrected.

Sherlock paused, but continued at Trevor's interruption. "-was blinded, maybe you can shed _light_ on to what happened." He shoved his hands on his coat pocket and gave a light glare.

"I-I don't think Hawkeye would appreciate you getting involved." He shifted from foot to foot in attempt to slowly put some space between the two.

Sherlock shifted two steps forward to keep the distance short. "I assure that she has told me her side of the story, but declined to add detail as she doesn't remember much." He cleared his throat and gave a low stare. "What. Happened." He requested thickly.

Trevor gulped heavily, despite this thin figure, he was sure Sherlock could take him down. He's heard the stories from Hawkeye, Sherlock knew his way around fighting guys bigger than Trevor himself. Someone you don't want to piss off.

"Alright, I'll tell." He cried holding hands up and finally making the space between them a couple feet. "I was over by the furniture there checking out what else we can salvage." Trevor nodded his head to the couch behind him. "The furnace was to be used for the winter season, Hawkeye thought it was a great idea. She said she'd inspect it for safety, I wasn't looking when it happened but I heard a small explosion and then she was screaming bloody murder."

Sherlock nodded at Trevor's tale. "What was she using to look inside?"

"Um, a match a think." He gave a thoughtful scratch to his nose. "She carries one around in case it's needed. She's told me how you smoke and all." He added.

With a sigh escaping his lips, he found himself finished with the story. He didn't know what caused the explosion but he got a good look and some evidence to look at under his scope. His eyes shot from the road leading to the highway above to Trevor, brows narrowed. "Might I ask where that came from?"

Sherlock indicated the bruise on his jawline, looked fresh. "Oh, um just got tussled with a bad pack. Not much of a fighter." He chuckled with a shrug.

The detective nodded at his answer, "Well, I'll be taking my leave. Trevor, Nick." He nodded to them and left down the short hillside. John was currently looking into the Westie case, unbeknownst to the doctor as to Sherlock's own investigations to Helena's case.

"I say, Trevor, where's that precious hat of yours?" Nick asked as Trevor trudged over to him.

"Oh, uh, I seem to have lost it during that scuff." He smiled sheepishly.

Nick gutted out a laugh patting his back. "Don't expect Hawk to steal you a new one!"

* * *

The train over above in the distance hollered a horn for all to hear it's turning arrival. On the lower ground down the railway tracks, John wearing an orange high-visibility jacket over his coat -mandatory for the area- was walking along the railways with a guard wearing a jumpsuit of the same color. The very guard who found Andrew West's body. While Sherlock was off somewhere else, in John's hope finding Helena, he was here investigating Mycroft's case.

"So this is where West was found?" John asked his little notepad and pencil in hand.

"Yeah." The guard answered. John nodded, "You gonna be long?" The guard asked.

"I might be." He answered.

"You with the police, then?"

Common question John was receiving this week. "Sort of."

"I hate 'em."

John looked over to him. "The police?"

He shook his head looking to him as John checked his pencil. "No. Jumpers. People who chuck themselves in front of trains. Selfish bastards."

"Well thats," John sighed and paused his walk. "_one_ way of looking at it." He squat down to look at the track, the location of West's body was found.

"I mean it." Said the guard standing behind him. "It's alright for them. It's over in a split second- strawberry jam all over the lines. What about the drivers, hmm?" John could feel the irritation come off the man, he sounded more annoyed finding Westie here. He rubbed his fingers on the tracks to find anything, but fingers came clean."They've gotta live with it, haven't they?"

"Yeah, speaking of no strawberry jam," John looked up as he stood. "there's no blood on the line. Has it been cleaned off?"

"No, there wasn't that much."

That didn't sound right to John, he knew Helena would feel that same with her input on the banker case. "You said his head was smashed in."

"Well, it was, but there wasn't much blood." He told.

John turned, well that made perfect sense. He just couldn't wrap his mind around it. "...Okay."

He looked down the tracks and walked further, the guard had to return to his job. "Well, I'll leave you to it then." John squatted down again at the guard called out, "Just give us a shout when you're off!"

"Right!" John hollered back and returned his attention to the tracks standing once again.

"Right; so Andrew West got on the train somewhere- or _did_ he?" John felt completely out of place, he was so used to Sherlock and now Helena to figure things out while he chimed in. "There's no ticket on the body." He recalled. "Then how'd he end up here?"

The screech of the tracks change sliding from one end connecting to the other. John squats down for the last time gazing at them in deep thought.

"Points."

"Yes!" Jumping to his feet at Sherlock's sudden and without warning input, he turned seeing him standing just behind him. Though he was alone- no Helena in sight… still.

"Knew you'd get there eventually. West wasn't killed here;" Sherlock confirmed. "that's why there was so little blood."

"How long have you been following me?" John questions.

"Since the start." He half lied, hands folded behind his back. "You don't think I'd give up on a case like this just to spite my brother, do you?"

John was to answer, but he had something else in mind. "...I was expecting Helena to be here. Didn't find her?"

Sherlock looked to John from the tracks. "She's with her old friends in the network." He lied- again. Sherlock had no honest idea where that girl was with her running off, but he had to be with Mycroft or at Baker Street with Mrs. Hudson.

"Come on." He turned away. "Got a bit of burglary to do."

John followed after removing his vest to return to the guard. Knowing Helena was with that friend she spoke of; Trevor and the community she probably felt more at home then at the flat.

* * *

The sky was now a red hues as the sun started to set. Though it was a beautiful sight, all but one important person was unable to see it. The man enjoyed seeing her quiver being cuffed by the wrists behind her, though blind she can feel the wind blow her hair about knowing she was on the roof of a building.

"This is such a pretty sight," Cooed the man standing a few feet away gazing at the sky over London, he turned to her with a cheeky grin. "I can see why you favor it so."

She let a whimper out bit bit back any more signs of weakness her body tried to give. Knowing she was outside calmed her better than being stuck in the car she was abducted in. It felt tiny, not as spacious as Mycroft's. Helena just chose to sit there listening to this man prod on.

"Jumping from roof to roof, climbing the tallest buildings of London, all just to feel as free as a bird." He chuckled striding to her, his accent sounded posh but she felt some Irish in there. "I'm truly sorry." He mocked, making her shudder as she felt him right in her ear.

"For what?" She dared questioned with a shaky voice.

Moriarty's cheek touched her's for only a split second as he softly murmured. "Robbed of this auburn sky."

* * *

Just after confirming with John he would return the missile plans to Mycroft, Sherlock was instead at St. Bart's looking into the residue from the hearth. Question was what was the residue originally from?

He knew the dust had to be related to a flame to react the way it did. Sherlock also checked the dust on the cloth from her jacket, finding identical silver/white particles within the fabric. He had questioned those before, but never gave a thought until now.

Trying out what this dust could be, he tried lighting a match to them but only a small spark. "...Something ignited to blind her." He concluded, and rushed over to his laptop and going to the search bar typing 'metal reactions to fire'.

A few video links popped up, the most metal that got results was Magnesium. He clicked the first link watching a strip of the silver metal have a light flame up against the tip. It took a while, but once the heat rose on it, a white blinding light shined off it. The bigger the flame the bright the spark was.

"...Magnesium." Pausing the video, Sherlock sat the bench entering his mind palace.

'Magnesium is a highly flammable metal, especially when powdered or shaved into thin strips. It is, however, difficult to ignite in mass or bulk.' The said metal must have been a bar shaved inside with enough to not cause fatal harm to Helena within her distance, but enough to cause damage to her retinas and the sparks jumped at her face causing the true pain she mentioned. What caused the spark, Sherlock eyed the electric lighter.

"_What was she using to look inside?"_

"_Um, a match a think. She carries one around in case it's needed. She's told me how you smoke and all." _

Sherlock confirmed this to be a lie; Helena had a flashlight like his own and John's. She used it during the blackout a few times when the candles were not in her favor to find things. Never had he seen matches or a lighter such as this on her person. It seemed risky with her living on the streets, nor ever as he asked her for a light as he didn't smoke when she was around. The craving never came when she was near.

His hands held the electric lighter turning it about in his fingers. "So, where did you come from?"

"..No, it wasn't scrapped." Sherlock realized looking to the residue and rushing over. "It was strips. Shavings would've died off." He moved the dust about. "And by the amount of it, it was spiraled around the bottom, the small metal chamber was enough to reflect and blind her instantly."

Sherlock leaned back on the stool crossing his arms. "Something activated the lighter, fish wire?" He inspected the light again, the switch to ignite it was gone so… how? Sherlock decided to start taking it apart with care and found a chip inside, ones found in computers or phones.

He turned it with a hold of a pair of tweezers, staring at it trying to get the-

"Oh...That's how you did it." His lips tugged upwards into a grin. "Modified to work from a distance; a mobile phone."

* * *

Night had struck finally, sadly the windows were still not fixed despite it almost a week since the explosion and yet they have not been fixed. The wooden boards could only keep the cold out for so long. John had to remember to ask Mrs. Hudson about that who apologized every time she saw them sit in the room with their coats wrapped around themselves.

Currently the boys were to their own things; John typing up for his blog slowly compared to his flat mate's speed, and Sherlock was-

"No, no _no!_ Of course he's not the boy's father!" Sherlock gestured to telly now lowered and closer for his 'entertainment'. "Look at the turn ups on his jeans!" He sighed folding his arms around himself again.

Sherlock was of course watching a trashy like tabloid talk show. The damned pink phone sat on the armchair beside, no contact with the bomber since the painting was proven a fake. There was also nothing from Helena after that, despite John told where she was, Sherlock knew she wasn't there and Mrs. Hudson hadn't seen her. Mycroft was the last thought, but no text from him was making his inwards knot. Though he kept John in the dark, him still thinking she was with her street community.

John gave a glance over his shoulder seeing the screen, then looked back giving his head a short shake. "Knew it was dangerous."

"Hmm?"

"Getting you into crap telly." John mentioned returning to his blog.

"Hmm." Sherlock seemed a bit too… glued to the telly. It was a rare sight to see, John wished Helena could see this. "Not a patch on Connie Prince."

"Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?" John asked looking over to him.

"Yep." Almost making sure it was done, John turned back to his blog. Ah, the 'responsible' friend. "He was over the moon. Threatened me with knighthood- again." He huffed.

"You know, I'm still waiting." Said John.

Sherlock turned his head a bit. "Hmm?"

"For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you'd have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker."

He rolled his eyes at John's words the second 'solar system' came into play, Sherlock titled his head around at him. "Didn't do _you_ any good, did it?"

"No," John leaned back to him and countered, "but I'm not the world's only consulting detective."

Sherlock grinned widely at that. "True."

John looked at the time on his laptop, closing it. "I won't be in for tea. I'll be at Sarah's." He stood from the chair passing through the room. "There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge."

"Hm!" Sherlock responded glued to the tv once again.

"Uh, milk." John paused at the door looking back to his flat mate. "We need milk-"

"I'll get some." Sherlock offered quickly

John blinked, almost in disbelief, did he just offer to do shopping? Sherlock Holmes never offered to do things like that! "Really!?"

"Really."

The doctor decided to make sure, "And some beans, then?"

"Hmm." Sherlock's eyes still kept on the tv, but added in. "Helena will be stopping by, I'll give her your hello."

John hesitated, but nodded at that, maybe she can go with him… and hopefully get him to remember what exactly to get this time. He takes his leave down the stairs, leaving Sherlock to gaze at the tv. Once the door shut, he glances to the entry, waiting to confirm of John's leave before reaching for his laptop sitting between the table and his chair. First on the screen is the message box on his website, he types instantly, 'Found. The Bruce-Parington Plans. Please collect.' Before sending the message, he thinks, then adds in. 'The Pool. Midnight.' then sent it.

Closing the lid, he looked back to the tv thinking on preparing his encounter.

* * *

Midnight, the water of the clean clear pool rippled about. The warm room keeping it perfect for swimmers, Sherlock slowly and calmly entered the room, coat and scarf no longer on his body thanks to the heating. Hands clasped behind his back feeling the gun he kept tucked in the back of his belt. It was empty, but soon someone would arrive to Sherlock, with that offer how could they not?

Curiously he searched about, looking above and around him to find the true 'bomber' culprit. But with his position seeing the higher stands proved worthless. He came prepared after all. With a swift turn, he held the USB flash drive up for the bomber to see.

"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present." He announced, though no response was given he continued, looking about. "Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance- all to distract me from _this_." Sherlock slowly spun in circles waiting for anything.

A door is then opened, Sherlock looks quickly over his shoulder, his heart drops upon the sight.. Slowly stepping out, two figures; John watson wearing a heavy winter coat and Helena hooked gently on his arm like an escort facing him with a strong stance.

"Evening." John greets calmly, Sherlock is too stunned to move. "This is a turn up, isn't it, Sherlock?" Helena though she was still blind, he was glad to be spared of her eyes piercing his own right now.

"John. Helena. What the hell…?"

"Bet you never saw _this_ coming."

Sherlock finally moves taking a few steps forward, shocked by this outcome. It couldn't be- how? How!? No, this wasn't right, how could it be John _and_ Helena. Something was amiss.

"What…" Then, John's expression changed to near match Sherlock's as he removed his hands from his pockets and opened the jacket revealing the wires, blinking lights, and bulky bomb strapped to his chest. "Would you like me…" A red light hovered over John's chest, and it stayed there, another was over Helena's head. "to make him say… next?"

Helena's own hand moved, something clinked- then he spotted it. Handcuffs; Helena was handcuffed to John. Now the real fear in their eyes set in, Sherlock was half relieved but still felt the knot in his gut that they were in danger.

Sherlock spun around to find the source of the sniper but was unable to. "Gottle o' geer…" John spoke, an ear piece with the bomber ordering his words to Sherlock.

Helena hadn't spoke, either too petrified or was ordered to stay that way. There was no earpiece to her, being blinded and stuck to her friend now a bomb scared her enough.

"Gottle o' geer, gottle o' geer-"

"Stop it." Sherlock demands hearing John almost force the last phrase out.

"Nice touch, this; the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him." Sherlock now focused on his two friends, only a few feet away. John grimaces as what he hears, but must repeat. "I can stop John Watson and Hawkeye too." John glances at the laser on his chest, then to Helena who has the laser dancing over her eyes unknown to her. "Stop his heart. Stop that precious brain of hers."

"Who are you?" Sherlock calls out turning one last time to get a glimpse of anyone in the area.

The echo of a door opening at the far end of the pool behind John and Helena takes Sherlock's attention. "I gave you my number." The man of a soft Irish accent spoke innocently. "I thought you might call."

Now revealing himself, the man dressed just as clean cut as Sherlock strolls out from behind the pillars, hands casually in his pockets as he watches the trio, but eyes more on Sherlock. The man turns out to be indeed, Jim; Molly's boyfriend.

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket," Sherlock at that mention reaches back taking a firm grip of his weapon. "or are you just pleased to see me?"

Sherlock raises the pistol pointing it right at Jim. "Both." He answers.

He pauses facing Sherlock. "Jim Moriarty." He greeted. "Hi."

Sherlock analyzes him- Jim of course notices this as he slowly continues his walk. "Jim? Jim from the hospital?" He reminds him. "Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that _was_ rather the point."

Moriarty watches them not at all shaken by the gun aimed at him. He didn't care. Sherlock tilted his head to John as the laser danced about his upper chest. Helena's was near a teasing resort, it make John hold the gun in a tight grip.

"Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifles. I don't like getting my hands dirty." Jim stops at the corner of the pool. "I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see-" He then gave a nod to Sherlock with a near impressive short smirk. "like you!"

" "Dear Jim." " Sherlock mutters, Helena turns her head up at his words. " "Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?" "

Jim smiled Sherlock's words- just proud of himself of what Sherlock spoke of. 'Jim'll fix it'

" "Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?" "Dear Jim." " Sherlock paused glancing to Helena who was trying her best to control her breathing as her arms shook at her side. He looked back seeing Jim raise his brows at him waiting to finish. " "...Please will you fix it to get my friend back?" "

"Just so." Jim confirms stopping once again.

"Consulting criminal. Brilliant." Sherlock adds softly.

"Isn't it?" Jim smiles proudly. "No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will."

The sound of the gun giving a cock made Helena tense up, she couldn't tell if it was Sherlock's or another gun. John took a tight grip of her hand to assured he was there with her, all was fine. At least that was best he could give her.

"_I_ did."

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my _way_." He teased with a serious face.

"Thank you."

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes you did."

Jim shrugged caving in. "Yeah, okay, I did." He continuing his saunter to them. "But the flirtings over Sherlock," he gave a high sing-song pitch teasing with a, "Daddy's had enough now!"

Helena took a step closer to John giving a tight grip hold back on his hand. Helena would've smart mouthed him back, if only she wasn't in this situation currently she would. The thought of looking like this in front of Sherlock and felt at fault for this- her mind screamed at her 'you're weak'.

"I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play." John feels the strain of himself and Helena at this point, Sherlock looks between the two and Jim to try and keep his attention on him. "Take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off."

A sudden smile creeps up on his features, "Although I have _loved _this- this little game of ours." He put on that fake London accent. "Playing Jim from I.T." Then returned to his Irish accent. "Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died." Sherlock interjected.

"That's what people _DO_!" He screamed making Helena jump, she lowered her face not able to let Sherlock see her fear anymore.

Though Sherlock was unfazed, he replied. "I will stop you."

"No you won't." Jim denied.

Sherlock finally asks the two, "You all right?"

The two don't answer refusing to face look to their friend. Helena bites her lip, desperately wanting to just say Sherlock's name, but refrained from making any noise. Jim walked up behind them telling them reassuringly, "You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead, Hawk." He told emphasizing the 'k'.

John looked up and gave a single nod indicating he was alright. Helena didn't say anything, getting Jim to give a childish frown. "Ah, nothing from the love bird?"

Helena grew both angry and sick at his teasing. "..Fine." She choked out with a shaky voice.

Sherlock took his one hand off the butt of the gun and held the memory stick out to Jim. "Take it."

Moriarty looked over, "Huh? Oh!" He passed the two and reached out for the stick. "That! The missile plans." He grinned taking it and giving a gentle kiss to it, he looks down at it, then to Sherlock singing, "Boring!"

Behind Jim, John looked to have mumbled something, Helena looked up, her breathing was a bit more strained, like she was trying to control herself. "I could've gotten them anywhere."

The second Jim tosses the USB stick to the pool, John launched himself at Jim holding him in a tight choke hold. Helena was attached but felt Jim's solid waste and clung around it, her arm around the side to hold tight onto John's coat. She was angry and wanted to down right headbutt him right now if she knew where his face was. Sherlock stepped back not expecting the two to do that as John yelled, "Sherlock, run!" but kept his gun up and didn't take a step to do as John ordered.

Jim only laughed at this, "Good!" He praised. "Very good!" Sherlock looks around, finding the two lasers now gone off the two, one returned to Helena's head much to his dismay. The other was having trouble to get onto to John and avoid Moriarty.

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we will both go up." John hisses at him.

Jim looks at Sherlock still calm as a ever. "Aren't they sweet? I can see why you like having them around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets." He smirked down at Helena now pressed against his chest. "I wouldn't mind having this one has my own little house bird."

John pulls him even closer his back now right against the bomb, not liking to hear that from him about Helena let alone himself. Jim scowls at him, his poor suit was going to be ruined. "They're so touchingly loyal. But, _oops_!" He grins at John then to Sherlock. "You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson, Miss Hawk."

A third red laser was now shining on Sherlock's forehead, John was horrified by this turn of event. Just by the expression John gave, the detective softly shook his head. "Gotcha!" Jim teased as he prayed Helena off him, John gently tugged her back with the handcuffs. She felt his hand raised up she did the same, something went off so she followed with John and stood back with him, head down once again submitting defeat.

Jim straightened his suit and gestured it to Sherlock, "Westwood!" Sherlock kept the pistol at him, the laser now correctly back on Helena's forehead and John's chest. He folded his hands in front of him, returning to business.

"D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"

Sherlock answered, "Oh, let me guess; I get killed."

"Kill you?" Jim gave a near cringe at that. "N-no, don't be obvious- I mean, I _am_ gonna kill you anyway some day. I don't wanna rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don't stop prying," Jim looking him up and down. "I'll _burn _you."

Helena's head rose up at those words. "I'll burn the _heart_," He hissed, "out of you." She shuddered with anger at that, John held her hand once more.

"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock said.

"But we both know that's not quite true." Jim smirked glancing over to the two then to Sherlock, he shrugged. "Well, I'd better be off." His eyes shoot about finding the exit to his right where John emerged from. "Well, so nice to have had a proper chat."

Sherlock took a sharp breath of air, "What if I was to shoot you now-" He rose the pistol higher at Jim's head. "right now?"

"Then you can cherish the look of surprise on my face." Jim opened his eyes and mouth wide imitating a shocked expression before grinning at Sherlock. "'Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would." He squinted his face a bit. "And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for long."

The two had a short stare down before Jim stepped back ready to take his leave. "Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." He turns and makes his steady leave through the door.

Sherlock took a few steps closer. "Catch.. You... Later."

All is heard from the corridor is, "No you won't!" Sung from Jim as the door closes.

No one moved, the lasers now gone, Sherlock looked to his friends and instantly dropped the gun and got down on one knee to get the handcuff off them to remove the bomb. "All right?" he asks, when they don't answer, John only breathing heavily, he asks more urgently. "Are you all right!?"

"Yeah-Yeah, I'm fine." John stuttered out.

Sherlock took Helena's arm as she let a sighed out, her fist had been clenching hard and her palm was bleeding for a while, not much thankfully. "Helena." He and who only turned her head, Sherlock spotted the key to the cuffs tucked into the upper wrappings around her head. He stood holding a hand to her chin to keep her head still and gently removed the key.

"I'm fine.." She replied.

Much to Sherlock's relief to hear her voice, he knelt back down freeing the two from the cuffs and chucking the damned things behind him. He instantly went to work with the bomb jacket unzipping it from John's chest, as Helena rubbed her wrist and stood by keeping her ears out. Her knees shook threatening to buckle, but unknown how close she was to the pool she kept her legs standing.

Sherlock managed to get the vest opened, he jumped up and got behind John nearly ripping the whole jacket and bomb vest off him making John almost fall over. Sherlock's breathing sounded just as heavy now feeling the threat of John and Helena had as he managed to roughly stripped the jacket and vest off John. "Sh-Sherlock!"

With a near stumble, Sherlock chucked the deadly thing letting it slide across the floor at a long distance for them to feel at least remotely safe. Sherlock watches as he removed the earpiece, "Jesus.." He gives softly trying to control his breath, body now reacting to the danger he was just in. Sherlock shoots to the door bending to pick the gun up and rushes out to where Moriarty as just left. John lets a shakes, "Oh, Christ." As his knees buckle, but he leans against the changing cubicle before going to the ground trying to control his heart and breathing.

"J-John..?" Helena reached out hearing his labored breathing, taking small steps toward him.

"Here, h-here…" he called holding a hand out for her, she found it and let herself fall to her knees as John held her, she should feel his heart ready to burst from his chest.

"I'm fine, I'm all right." Helena assured patting her hands on her shoulders, sitting up. She was more concerned about him then herself. "John, even breathes."

He let out a weak breathless chuckle, "Right, right." He in turn rubbed up her arms feeling her hands shake gripping his shirt unintentionally. She was holding out strong but he knew she was downright terrified of what just happened.

The door slammed proving John right as Helena jumped at it, but twas only Sherlock returning gun still in his hand. Helena moved beside John to stand, despite her feet feeling like pins and needles. She leaned against the cubicle for support like John was crouching against it. Sherlock paced back and forth, his mind running faster and harder than it ever did before. Being a little dangerous as he was scratching the nuzzled end of the loaded gun against his head as he paced.

"Are _you _okay?" John asked still catching his breath.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Fine." He answered all too quickly.

Helena heard him pacing and stepped forward in hopes of catching his arm to stop him. "Sherl-" her footing had made her collapse and just her luck fall into Sherlock who held her tightly by her arms.

Sherlock was careful this time to keep the gun away from her holding her with his free hand, he felt her own hands tremblings against his arms and chest. "You're shaking." he indicated.

"I-I'm fine.." She denied in a stutter, glad to got him to stop. But he kept a hold on her as she felt she couldn't stand on her own.

"Are you hurt?" Sherlock asked, his eyes scanning her up and down to find any injuries on her.

"No, I didn't get hurt… Just a bit spooked is all." She let her fingers feel the material of his suit, being near him like this made her feel more relaxed.

Sherlock kept an arm on her to keep her steady. He felt better himself with her near, almost feeling she would disappear again like before. Sherlock looked to John, sort of trying to form these words to them. "That, er… _thing_ you both, er, that you both did-that, um…" Helena patting his shoulder as he cleared his throat, he kept motioned with the gun as his hand was on Helena's back. "...You offered to do. That was, um…. good."

John just stared out blankly not looking up to the two. "I'm glad no one saw that-even Helena."

She frowned in confusion, her hand at her chest to feel her heart still beating but her hands were starting to calm down. Sherlock had lowered the gun to his side, but it still jittered against his thigh, he rose it to his chin but seeing Helena close he dropped it again. "Hmm?"

"You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."

Helena finally lets a small laugh out as Sherlock just shrugged. "That's what you're worried about?"

"People do little else." Sherlock sighs smirking down at John who snorts a laugh.

John moves to get up, but finds a red dot on his chest, his heart sinks one more time. "Oh…"

Sherlock notices just as the door opened with clapping. "Sorry boys!" Moriarty's voice returned. "I'm sooooo changeable!" Helena's breathing hitched as Sherlock stepped up three dots on himself, two on John and three on Helena. She kept a tight grip on his arm hearing Moriarty behind them.

Jim laughed, "It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my _only_ weakness." Sherlock turned his head looking down to John who matched the gaze. "You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but…" Jim laughs making that once again sing song voice of his, "everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!"

Sherlock turned away looking down to Helena who was having a death grip on him- she wasn't to be involved like this now… She was going to die. He had to stop Moriarty and there was only one way to do it. He leaned down to Helena, "Run." He whispered but only earned a confused glance up to him. Sherlock looked down at John who gave a curt nod deeming the decision right.

"Probably my answer as crossed yours." Sherlock turned leading Helena to safety behind him- or as safe he can have her be.

Aiming the gun at Moriarty, he then heard Helena whisper to him, "I won't leave you." Hugging his free arm and hiding her face into it.

Jim just smiles at him knowing he wouldn't make the shot. Sherlock took a deep breath slowly lowering the aim down the the bomb between them and Moriarty. He noticed and tilted his head at Sherlock's decision, then grinned at him as Sherlock narrowed him down.

* * *

**WOO my heart STILL drops when that episode ends! Yeah, Helena wasn't involved much. Do you honestly blame her though? Don't worry, the story continues. This goes into series one and two, but then a new story for series three. Might not depending how many chapters this has. Remember to review and show the love!**


	15. Chapter 15

**This chapter was put to wait for the weekend. My production group had some filming to do at Sakura Fest in Philadelphia. Search for Switch Productions on tumblr to see the photos!  
**

* * *

It felt like hours this was going on. To someone who awaited death and couldn't see it coming it was like torture. Despite not able to see, Helena knew what Sherlock was to do. The bomb was slid down near where Jim Moriarty stands now. Sherlock's position turned gun in hand aiming how in the direction. She felt his arm lower, aiming the bomb. She ready, a sick man like this had to be stopped. Her face was hidden deep into Sherlock's shoulder blade, hands gripping his arm with nails trying not to dig into his skin. Muscles tense ready for the-

Sudden music played- Sherlock's eyes looked around as John shot up in confusion. Slowly Helena's head rose, no bomb or shot fired, just the opening of Stay'n Alive was playing through the room.

Jim closed his eyes and just sighed at this, Sherlock looks in confusion. "D'you mind if I get that?" he asks.

"No, no, please. You've got the rest of your life." Sherlock answers.

Taking out his phone he answers ending the damned song. "Hello? ...Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" He mouthed a 'sorry' to Sherlock who just mouthed back 'oh, it's fine'. Jim circles on his spot looking highly annoyed by whoever this caller was, he suddenly shoots back.

"_SAY THAT AGAIN!_"

Helena jumps as Sherlock's arm flinches just a tad at the outburst, John blinks in shock daring not to move. "Sat that again and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will ssssskin you." He hissed into the phone.

Sherlock looks to John who glances briefly, something was holding his hand making him glance down at Helena. Never had he seen her so scared before, something he didn't want to see, he looked back allowing her to hold his hand.

"Wait." Jim lowers the phone and slowly walks towards the trio. Sherlock adjusted his hold on the gun as Jim stops at the jacket. He keeps his eyes downcast to the floor, "Sorry." then looked up at Sherlock. "Wrong day to die."

"Oh, did you get a better offer?" Sherlock asks.

Jim didn't answer to his question, he looked down at the phone turning away, "You'll be hearing from me Sherlock." and strolled back to the door he first came through. "So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes." He snapped his fingers, and all the lasers were gone.

Sherlock looks around as Moriarty finally was gone,, John released a sigh letting himself sit back on the floor.

John looked up to Sherlock. "What happened there?"

Sherlock looked to him, "Someone changed his mind." then to Helena. "The question is; who?"

John leaned his head back against the stall and slowly made his way to stand again. "John, stay with Helena." He lead her over to the doctor getting her hand out of his and into John's. "I need to call Lestrade." Sherlock takes his cellphone out and takes a few steps down the to the door he came in.

John watched him as Helena leaned on him, he looked down to her. She seemed better than she was when he was strapped and handcuffed to her. John was thankful Helena wasn't hurt or touched by those men who strapped him up with the bomb. She was initially going to be the 'bomb' but John insisted he be it.

"John?" He turned his attention down to her, "..I know what happened, and-" Helena gulped and looked up at him. "..W-we almost died. Does this feeling go away..?"

He was a bit concerned, was she alright? "Feeling..?"

Helena gulped, "Of being close to death?"

Ohh, that feeling. John knew it all too well, being in Afghanistan with the war and all. "..To be honest?" He gave a gentle squeeze to her hand. "Yeah, it takes time." He assured.

Though John's case was different- he was addicted to this life. Helena wasn't, she just was addicted to freedom and being the Hawk of London. Going through near death experiences wasn't her life, did Sherlock know this too?

"Are we sure it's safe?" Helena asked, "What if he comes back to fool us again?"

John shook his head, "He's gone for real. Sherlock wouldn't be calling Scotland Yard right now if so."

She looked up, "Why is he calling Lestrade?"

John didn't have to guess, "Bomb squad."

* * *

"Are you sure you want to remove them now? It hasn't been a full week yet." John asked looking for the scissors in the first aid kit he kept.

Helena sat on the couch hands holding a mug of tea Sherlock had made. It wasn't until five minutes when they got to the flat Helena asked to have her bandages removed. John wouldn't allow this, but after what had just happened he doesn't blame her wanting to see and clear her mind on the incident.

Greg wasn't told much, only that they had found the bomb here but not the bomber. Sherlock confirmed to Lestrade the man named Jim Moriarty was responsible but told them not to search. Criminal mastermind; he didn't want the police to make any -as he put it stupid- mistakes. The bomb was safely removed though and the trio returned to the flat safe and sound.

"I'd say five to six days is a week to me." She told stubbornly.

John at on the coffee table in front of her taking the small thin scissors. He took the mug from her hands and placed it next to her. "Alright, remember not to touch anything, open them when I say."

She nodded and kept her head still feeling John slide the scissors up the bandages letting the blades cut the gauze by the side of her head from her hair. Sherlock watched from his chair sipping his own cup of tea. John was careful taking the gauze off not wanting to yank any hairs out of her head or rip her skin. There was an obvious line where her eyes were covered to where her face was exposed, Sherlock was sure the tanned line would even out.

Now all that covered her eyes were the cottons on her lids. John held a hand over her eyes, "Keep them closed." He instructed slowly removed them. One was off as he placed it beside him and the second joined its twin. He took her hand and replaced it over her eyes from his hand, "Keep that there,"

Helena nodded, just like her dream she felt. Either she was to open her eyes to black darkness or see John's face and the flat once again. A sight she was missing the most next to see her beautiful London. "I want you to slowly open them, don't rush."

She took a breath and felt her eyes strain a bit from being closed for so long, but managed to crack them opened. A bit of darkness with her hand covering eyes, so far so good she knew her hand was there. Helena nodded confirming that they were opened, ready to adjust to the light. "Good, now lower your hand, if it hurts to see just let me know."

Her hand was slowly lowered, the lamp to her right was bright causing her to squint as it hurt. She was glad to not have been the sun that would burn her eyes instantly. Head turned about as she blinked getting used to the lighting, but it proved a bit much. John noticed and got up to turn the lamp off to make the flat lower lit for her.

It was more bearable with only the kitchen lighting and light by the dining table. Things were all blurs at first, but they were becoming more clear as she blinked eyes opening more wider. Soon she looked back to John in front of her, only to find not John but Sherlock taking his spot at the table. Not expecting it, she sat back staring at him, soaking in his features. That bushy dark hair, that long angled face, those high sharp cheekbones, and of course those electric blue eyes that she near drowned in.

She found herself speechless, but just for Sherlock to see she keeping straight eye contact with him, let his lips to tug on a short smirk. "Looks like you're back in business, Hawkeye."

Suddenly, Hawk leapt from the couch and ran down the hall into Sherlock's room escaping through his back window. John jumped to go after, but Sherlock held a hand to stop him giving him a look to say 'I'll follow her'. John allowed this deciding to get some rest, after tonight he might sleep for a week!

* * *

Sherlock wandered down the streets of London he knew, but didn't go to often. Crime wasn't common here so it wasn't a place of his interest or need. But Hawkeye was here and he knew it. The homes were near perfect, the ones that you see in those fact commercials; having a nice family dinner, kids getting along, perfect parents- Sherlock resisted to groan at the mental image of it all.

One town home flat caught his attention, why? Well on the chain linked fence was a perched Hawk- Helena. She looked to be staring at the big bay window where the lights we lit. Sun was to rise soon as the sky was growing bluish gray, he huffed a sigh as he approached her on the other side of the fence. She didn't acknowledge Sherlock's arrival, he looked down seeing a crate- it looked sturdy. He stood up on it managed to loom a bit over the fence beside Helena, she was staring intently at this home with a longing look.

Sherlock's eyes shared her gaze inside the home through the bay window where a woman in her early fifties with short dirty blond hair making breakfast in the kitchen. A boy in his teens entered the kitchen getting the milk about to jug it, the mother turned and scolded him earning a laugh from the boy. The boy had the near same facial features as Helena, only with brown shaggy hair over his face

The one thing Sherlock noticed was the family, despite being small, was happy. The small homey place was just enough for a small family like them. Sherlock used is deduction skills as well as he could from his distance. The boy was about sixteen and wasn't one of those trouble maker annoying teenagers; good grades, did his chores, and had a great connection with his mother. The mother had a smile but her lines showed she was aged, hair obviously died to hide the gray hairlines. Her ring finger though was absent, Sherlock knew the fate of the late husband.

He gave a short glance to Helena who kept the same expression, as if she wanted to reach out to them. Eyes didn't water though, kept the focus on the boy more than the mother. Deciding the silence was lasting long enough, he clears his throat, Helena flinched now realizing him there.

"Did you put a tracker in my phone?" She asked not changing her gaze.

"No, I had a 'hunch' you'd be here." He told only to earn a scuff from her.

"I think you mean deduction." Helena corrected.

A small smirk came on Sherlock's features before fading. The boy was no eating a meal of omelets his mother made him eating at the nook in the kitchen. "So that's Curtis."

Helena smiled softly, "Yeah, he's grown up so much." Helena sighed softly, "I haven't been here for a while."

"Four years?" Sherlock figured.

"Just about." Helena confirmed.

Sherlock shifted in his weight on the crate. "She isn't wearing her ring." He pointed out.

Helena's smile faded, "She stopped wearing it after his funeral. Though she never found another man, raising Curtis alone." She heaved a heavier sigh as their mother teased Curtis about his hair, more or less about getting it cut. He batted her hand away as he put the empty plate in the sink. Helena chuckled whispering, "Get a haircut, dork."

Sherlock looked to Helena once again, "You can… y'know," He shrugged. "greet them."

The brooding man wasn't one for families, not that his own was just as worse. He just… wasn't a family man. The relationship between himself and Mycroft was proof enough of that. His parents were just… normal. The thought of Helena getting along with them made him roll his eyes; his mother would coo all over her for sure.

"I can't." Helena bluntly answered, turning to jump off a few feet from Sherlock. Curtis was leaving for class, she had to make her own exit. Sherlock looked at her questioningly, she glanced over her shoulder. "Look at the pictures inside, Sherlock."

He looked back over finding a few photos on the fridge. Most were of Curtis as a kid growing up, others were with his mother or father. But there were none of Helena, no evidence at all. Another picture on a wall by the archway out of the kitchen was a family photo of a four year old Curtis in his mother's lap and on her side her husband. Still, no Helena in the photo.

"Don't you see?" Helena turned to him as he looked to her with knotted brows. "They forgot all about me." Helena's voice was soft with a pained smile. "Curtis doesn't even know he has a sister. That's why I-"

"How do you know they've forgotten?" Sherlock questioned stepping off the crate and over to her hands in his pockets.

"It doesn't take a great detective- stop smirking." Sherlock bit his lip looking away for a moment. "Sherlock," She called seriously, he looked back. "I honestly envy you and your brother."

"Mycroft and I!?" Sherlock was a bit appalled by this.

"Well, I can't certainly use John and his sister's relationship as an example, from what _you've_ informed me." She countered hands on her hips. Helena remembered how Sherlock told her John's sister was a 'bit' of a drunk. Indeed the wrong example.

Sherlock thought on this and nodded, "Carry on."

"Thank you." Helena folded her arms as a cold chill came by, the sun slowly rising to light the sky. "I really am jealous of you two. You boys don't have the best relationship and you hate Mycroft, but he does care for you." Sherlock scoffed, "Oi! I'm serious!" Helena rose a finger at him with a stern look. "He's just as much concerned for you as I am for Curtis. I've spent not only my time on the streets being a little criminal, but I watch out for my little brother."

Sherlock gave a curious look. So, it was like Mycroft using his advantage as the 'government' to keep taps on Sherlock. Helena was using her street smarts to watch out for Curtis, for sure some homeless friends helped her out. Helena started her leave past the many small back yards to find the road, Sherlock shortly followed after.

The sun was now up and business were opening, teenagers and kids making their way to school. It wasn't until they got to the marketplace Sherlock spoke now walking beside her. "You've protected him." Sherlock told.

Helena nodded hands shoved in her own pockets with shoulder hunched at the cold. "Of course, it was the only thing I could do for him. I took his father away-"

"You lost your father." Sherlock opposed as he stopped walking.

"And my family."

"You left your family."

Helena turned, "They left me!"

The two were silent at her outburst, her eyes were now tearing up but she wiped them dry. "I lied!" She barked at him, he kept a calm demeanor. "You were wrong, alright!? I didn't leave, I was forced out of the house! My mother blamed me for his death and disowned me. I had no where else to go but stay on the streets!" By now people were staring at the two passing by, Helena didn't care. Her emotions running high "I tried to go back, but she moved to where they are now. It took me years to find them, Curtis was already nine by the time I did."

"Helena-" Sherlock saw she was going on a tangent and didn't want a scene to start. She needed to calm down.

"I don't have a family, I'm just Hawkeye. Hell, because of that accident I almost lost a second chance.

"Second chance?" He questioned taking a step forward.

"When I almost lost my eyesight, Sherlock. You-" She shook her head biting her lip hard. "..I was almost obsolete to you."

Sherlock blinked, taken aback by her words. "What? Obsolete?" Where did all this come from?

Helena nodded not daring to look him in the eye. "What help was I with Moriarty planting all those bombs? All I did was sit there like a blind stump unable to give you faster ways to locations, I couldn't even see my own maps for God's sake!"

Sherlock watched as she exploded everything she felt this past week- fear, anger, heartbreak. What got Sherlock the most was the fear was not from Moriarty, but from Sherlock Holmes. His face was stone though, but instead he felt his chest grow heavy.

"What made you think such things?" he asked.

Helena turned around not able to let him see her like this, she didn't answer him. It was silent as Helena fight tears in her eyes, without a warning her phone beeped with a text alert. She reluctantly took it out seeing a text from Sherlock, frowning wondering what he sent her when standing behind her. Helena clicked it open finding a photo inside, he clicked the attached clipping seeing the photo to be something amazing. The dark night sky with stars shining, it was like a river of stars, not even all her years of seeing the sky had Helena seen such a sight. But when did he take this photo? Helena thought back to when it could've been- the painting.

"_Beautiful, isn't it?"_

_"I thought you didn't care about things li-"_

_"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it."_

That night, he was looking at the stars. That's what he found beautiful and took a photo of it. Just.. for her? Her hand came over her mouth, it was a small trinket of a photo, but the fact Sherlock Holmes took a photo of it just for her to see made her heart skip.

Steps against the concrete approached her as a gloved hand came over her eyes shielding her sight much to her surprise. Sherlock leaned in whispered by her ear, "You're far too interesting for me to lose."

He let her go allowing her to turn and stare up at him, he stared back. Feeling the electricity between the two was obvious to anyone walking by, all but the two causing it.

The end of his lips tugged up smiling down at her, soon her lips turned up as well. "Dare I say that's one way to keep a lady, Mr. Holmes." She teased only to earn an eye roll from Sherlock, but that brought Helena's laughter back.

He was glad that tension was gone, and now discovering how Helena was that whole week left his chest lighter than it was beforehand.

_"It's a waste of time to wait then to move, Hawkeye. Keep up."_

_"So, Helena kept up well."_

_"She did indeed."_

_"Until you pushed her."_

_"Unless you're helping, stay quiet." _

_"You sort of have to understand, this wouldn't work the same as the military. If that blind elderly woman was me, Sherlock would have to keep the act of caring to a zero standard."_

Not good, would be the perfect word at these thoughts. Helena shoved his shoulder with a grin. "Don't grow sentimental on me." His expression must have given the intention that he was guilty.

None the less he cleared his throat looking up and down the road, "I was just thinking where we should have breakfast."

Helena chuckled looking down at her phone. "Well, got any recommendations?"

"There's this one small cafe with great waffles." He suggested.

"Did you help the owner with a case?" She asked walking beside him as he took lead. "Cover up a murder, help get out of trial?"

Sherlock shrugged, "Assisted to convince his daughter's stalker to leave the country to Latvia."

Helena rose a brow, "Convinced, eh?" She laughed at that as she set her phone wallpaper to the night sky. She'd always treasure this.

* * *

"It's just as I said- I'm cutting connections." He told with an odd mix of fear and stupidity.

"Ohohoh," He laughed. "We can't have that. You're in the deck, you wanted 'Dear Jim' to 'fix it'."

"But you didn't! You backed out all because of one phone call." He argued with a trembling form.

Jim Moriarty looked over the buildings of London at the top of an apartment complex. This was where his 'client' wanted to meet. "The bruise is healing nicely." Jim purred. Feeling the now swollen bruise on his cheek, he scowled in embarrassment. "Has she checked on you yet?"

"I thought you were to help, not enjoy!?" The boy wasn't screaming just yet, his voice was too shaky to dare raise. "It was hard enough for me to put her through all that torture. 'All part of the plan', says you."

Jim sighed now growing annoyed by this boy. He turned and waltzed up to him making the young man take a cautious step back. "How do you plan on paying, Trev?"

Trevor looked at him in confusion, shaking his head he took another step back. "What? Paying? I-I helped you meet Sherlock. Wasn't that part of the deal!?"

Moriarty looked to the sky with a soft shudder earned grin. He ignored his words and asked glancing to the figures approaching behind Trevor, "Cash or credit?"

* * *

Tea time wasn't something Helena followed through. Being a Brit of course she enjoyed it, but the old 'tea time' with Mycroft today was something that made her tense during the whole event. She didn't even know Mycroft had such a time, sure Sherlock, John, and Mrs. Hudson. Mycroft always seemed astray to be different some how, without even realizing it.

So here Helena sat in his office across from Mycroft Holmes as he poured them each a small cup of tea. Her eyes looked over the fancy tea cups, they were very pretty but not as so as the ones at 221b. Helena noticed how he pours the tea just like Sherlock, one of the many troves of which proves them to be brothers; she bit her lip to keep from snickering.

"Something you find humorous?" Mycroft asked not even glancing to her as he handed her the tea cup on the saucer.

Helena looked forward taking it gently. "Ah, no." She waved off. "Just never thought you'd have enough time for tea."

He sat back and took his own taking a sip before answer, "There's always time for tea, Helena."

"Hmm." She sipped the tea, finding it not too bad. Still she preferred Sherlock's tea, not as much bad of a aftertaste. It was beginning to feel awkward, Helena felt she couldn't even snag a biscuit from the plate by her. "Um, you didn't exactly 'call' me here just to enjoy some bitter tea, right?"

Mycroft gave a chuckle setting his cup down, "Clever tramp." She nodded not taken offense to the title.

He stood walking to his desk going through the drawer. While not looking she snatched a biscuit and shoved it in her mouth…. Only to earn large regrets of doing so. The treat was bitter, almost no sugared taste like Mrs. Hudson's, she could feel her eyes water with an urge to launch it across the room. Who made these!? Helena grabbed a napkin and spat the nastiness into it and balled it up, just as Mycroft found a folder from his desk drawer. She tossed it under her chair maneuvering her legs to hide it from him as he returned placing the folder in front of her.

"What's this?" Helena put her tea down and picked the beige folder up. Mycroft didn't answer as he sat back down returning to his tea. Hinting for her to open, she did so finding photos of Curtis, her precious brother. "Curtis?"

"I did a bit of research." Was his answer as she looked through.

In most of the photos she spotted herself somehow hidden somewhere to see him. Helena was both shocked but, with how Mycroft was like tried not to be too surprised by this. "Why do you have these?" She asked looking up.

"It's not hard to see you're Curtis' older sister." He grinned only making Helena scowl. She knew he was comparing her to him.

She flicked through the photos, pausing at one of not only her but with Sherlock. This was just a few days ago when she got her bandages removed and ran off to find the home. She smiled softly seeing Sherlock stand next to her on that crate as she was perched on the fence.

"Are you suggesting something to me, Mycroft?" She asked with a high brow showing said photo.

He merely shrugged, "I just thought I'd bring these to you. He has never seen you, with how you are hidden. I'd be surprised if you weren't an agent of some sort."

"Well, if you're offering, I decline. Just updating you with Sherlock is enough 'dirty' work for me." She told putting the photos down.

Mycroft leaned back, "Ah, yes! Your details to my brother's actions do help me know how he is."

"I don't understand why you just don't do what normal older brother's do and just- oh yea, not normal." Helena digressed folding her arms.

"I could say the same to you." He counter earning a glare.

"I have my reasons why I check on my brother the way I do." Helena didn't want to get into this. Why did everyone have to pry into her life and back story? She thought Mycroft would be the last person to try and figure her out. Then again, he was sure she did the same to John since she and him do hang around Sherlock a lot.

"Is there even a point to keep taps on Sherlock for you? I bet you have the whole flat bugged-" Helena frowned at him, "Oh God, do you?!"

Mycroft laughed lightly, "If it was, would I have offered you or John Watson to keep taps on my dear brother?"

That made sense, Helena leaned back into the chair with a sigh. "He does know we've communicated. Even has texted me at times asking if I was with you." He picked up her cup to finish her tea.

"Does it bother him?"

Helena looked up from her tea, "Hm?"

"That I take his pet for a walk?" Helena sighed at him putting the tea cup down a little roughly. At that moment her phone went off. "Speak of the devil." He comments as Helena checks the phone seeing it's a text from Sherlock.

**418 Edgware Road  
London W2 1ED  
If not busy**

**-SH**

Helena frowned, a street address? Did he need a fast way to the location? "You're brother.." She chuckled getting to her feet, "I must take my leave, Mycroft. Thank you for tea none the less."

"No trouble." He told. "Will you need a ride?"

Mycroft only earned a sly grin, "What do you think?"

* * *

"You sure this is a good idea?" John asked as he stood waiting with Sherlock at the street corner. Hands folded behind his back in his usual military stance he can't break. He looked to his flatmate who was checking his phone every few minutes.

"From what you told me, she doesn't want the idea of this at all."

Sherlock looked over to him. "You don't like half the ideas I have and they still work out."

John thought on this to try and scramble something that didn't work in Sherlock's favor. He turned to him. "The idea of buying that Cluedo game was a _huge_ mistake."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, he didn't see the trouble in it. Once they play a round John will see it through, Helena was sure to like it as well. Sherlock would argue, but he wasn't finding that important right now.

John looked around some more, he rubbed the wrist of his hand and sighed. "Um, she did get the text, yeah?"

"Oh for sure." Sherlock grinned. "It's now her turn to wait for us."

John frowned in confusion, "Sorry, what?" What did he mean by that? The tall man turned looking to the building, John followed his gaze now at the roof and gave an exasperated sigh. Of course she'd be sitting on the damned roof watching us wait like idiots.

Hawkeye gave a keen smile hooting with laughter. "Took you long enough! You should know me by now, Dr. Watson." She teased letting her legs dangle off the edge as she sat on the corner building.

"Y-Yeah.." He lightly chuckled, mentally agreeing to be used to her by now. Then again Sherlock took time…. still is.

"Land, Hawkeye." Sherlock told. "Only have a short amount of time."

She raised a brow at his command earning a sorry nod from John. None the less she did so; letting herself lower to the edge and land to the pavement, despite the distance she landed fine as usual. Helena strode over to the men hands in her leather jacket pockets. A replacement of her hoodie, she actually found to like this better.

"So what's the rush? Got a case on?" She asked looking up at Sherlock.

"No case today." He answered quickly and walked right past her to the green building.

Helena looked to John who shrugged, though he had a look of distress. That 'distress' of when Sherlock was up to something. Helena frowned, "What is he up to, John?"

John had the internal struggle to tell her Sherlock's scheme. But he told him harshly not to tell her, she wouldn't agree to such a thing he knew. So why even try this? Though John sort of did agree he'd feel better that Helena had this done, at the same time though-

"You're doing that." John popped out of his thoughts looking to Helena who was looking downward a bit. He followed seeing she was watching his left hand clenching, he shook it off.

"Habit." He told hiding his hands behind his back to keep hold of his left hand casually. Something she said made him look to her, "Again?"

Her brown eyes looked up, "Back at the pool, when you're left hand held mine it was trembling." John's brows knotted turning to her, she noticed that? "Also during the few cases with Sherlock. Do you get a shot of nerves making your hand twitch?" She asked more innocently than just prying like Sherlock does.

John licked his lips and said, "My therapist said it was post traumatic stress disorder, Sherlock said otherwise." He lifted his hand, rolling his knuckles checking to see if it was shaking even a little.

"It's like… A sign of something coming." She mumbled and smiled softly to John before turning to follow Sherlock into the small green building.

John watched thinking on her words watching his hand again. He clenched and huffed a sigh, more or less thinking on how many times he must have done this 'habit'. He strode to the store joining the two only to hear someone yell,

"Hell _bloody _no!"

Helena was yelling at Sherlock who stood by the counter. John looked around seeing the guns hanging on the walls, different types all around. He joined the three as Helena and Sherlock's argue was now in hearing range.

"What part of 'I don't like guns' did you not understand!?" Helena barked slamming her hand on the counter.

Sherlock looked just as annoyed. "Well, what part of 'what will you do facing a gun' did you not hear?"

Helena groaned in aggravation turning on her feet trying to keep her anger to a minimum, her fists tight and teeth grinding. Her raging brown eyes shot to John making him take a cautious step back. "Did you know?"

John knew women could be fearful ones, he's seen the wrath of a few women; he should be thankful Sarah didn't show this anger when they broke up. But the feeling of those Hawk like eyes burning into his forced him to break contact to the floor. The fact he shifted foot to foot and refused to look gave her the needed answer. "I told him-"

"Stop being childish." Sherlock told making her glare back at him sparing John. "I don't need to hear that you were shot for not having a gun for your own safety. At least give the shooting range a try."

"Why should I? I'd be just like those bastards who killed my father." She argued.

"I don't have all day to waist on this petty arguing." Sherlock's patience was gone as he took her arm. "One try and you'll see I'm right."

Hawkeye punched his arm letting her free from his grip, for sure that'd leave a bruise. The two had a thick and tense stare down. The owner was behind the counter sighing, guessing this was normal for girls to refuse to use guns. He decided to start cleaning a pistol waiting for when his services are needed.

John looked between the two, ready for Sherlock to say something over the line or Helena to straight up hit him. What went through his mind was; should he intervene? If so, now or-

"What were to happen to Curtis if he gets targeted or Moriarty got to him."

Now.

"Sherlock." John and to give him the usual stern warning of him jumping the line.

Before Sherlock could even look to John, a right hook of a fist came right at his jaw. Not expecting it, he felt himself go to the side leaning on the counter, his jaw was on fire and for sure was to swell from the force of that hit. He blinked at Helena who gritted her teeth rubbing her fist at the impact, then looked up pointing a finger at him.

"Curtis will _never_ get involved with that bastard let alone myself. I would never forgive if something happened to him." She hissed out at him with venom and made her leave slamming the door.

"Need an ice pack?" The owned asked calmly almost expecting that situation to turn as sour as it did.

"Not good?" Sherlock asked John waving the offer from the owner. John looked up him, pursuing his lips with raised eyebrows; that was a yes. He rubbed his jaw wincing at the bruise that was to come into color by tomorrow for sure.

"She'll come around." The detective assured John who just sighed shaking his head. These two were truly oil and water.

* * *

**Another reason this chapter was delayed, last week my grandmother was admitted to the hospital and after getting checked out is now a hospice patient. For those who don't know what that is, hospice is a place/state where they are labeled as to die soon. She is returning this week to have a at home hospice but only a nurse three days a week, I have to help my mom with the rest of the days. So things will be slow until her pass and I might take a small break when the day comes because of her stuff and such. She lived with us for two years and is in the last stages of dementia. So I just want to let you all know if anything happens I'll leave an author's note.**


	16. Chapter 16

"Did it ever occur to you-"

"Yes."

"Stop that."

Sherlock looked to John as they rode in the taxi together to return to Baker Street. Although John insisted Sherlock go apologize to Helena, but he would have none of it. If anything she was the one to say she was wrong and say her sorry. The two have argued and spat before but this was a bit different, the doctor felt. Helena has slapped, hit, and kicked Sherlock. But the bruise now coming into color on his cheek was proving the fight was more intense than he felt.

"Did it ever occur to you that mentioning a touchy subject such as Helena's brother wouldn't topple her over the edge?"

"The thought did arrive." Sherlock admitted with a nod.

John looked at him expectantly. "..And the conclusion was to her agreeing at that?"

"Possibly."

The military doctor rolled his eyes, when was Sherlock ever to understand humans? Let alone feelings in general. He looked out the window and asked, "Why do you want her to learn to use a gun?" He looked back to his flat mate. "She's lived on the streets for a long time and survived well. Beside, you were the one that said she could handle herself."

"Well now looking at the risks she takes in working under me and the danger to come to her, I thought it would be best to her interest." Sherlock concluded peeking out the window.

The silence arrived as Sherlock assumed the conversation be over. John was just sitting there thinking on Sherlock's true intentions on his sudden need of protection for Helena. Sure he said there was an interest in her, but that was for her skill to map things out within seconds compared to Sherlock's speed. Then there was her parkour skill to jumping and climbing buildings like nothing John Watson himself had ever seen. He still forgets now and again she can be perched somewhere high watching the city below her.

'To her interest', says Sherlock. 'To keep her safe', says John. John Watson has seen Sherlock show rare signs of concern, attention, and even care to the homeless Helena. There were many times with the Blind Banker case; when she was arrested, experiencing panic attacks- even gave her mouth to mouth with barely any hesitation!

The times he allowed her to sleep in his bed let alone be in the room at all. To visit them she climbs through his window, with the offer of tea on the sil- tea me made himself! Not that Sherlock rarely made tea but the fact he offered others tea as an _invite_.

When the two first met clearly Sherlock wanted nothing of her, just to see her skill and move on. He didn't want her in the flat, on his couch- but after taking her with them to the bank he saw something in her. Something John didn't see, nor couldn't see.

But now, John sees what it is. "You like her."

Sherlock turned to John, eyebrows low and frown thick. "What?"

John urged, "You like Helena."

Sherlock's eyes wandered up on his words, like her, well sure. She had a highly interesting mind palace of her own map of London and could make her way to anywhere she wanted. Eyes shifted back to him, "Yes." the car stopped as he climbed out.

John rushed to pay the cabbie and follow to Sherlock as he was unlocking the door of 221b. "So, you know what I mean by 'like' right?"

Sherlock opened the door turning to John. "I like her just as I like you."

Okay he _clearly_ didn't get what John was asking. "No, I mean you have a deep interest in her." He tried walking past Sherlock as he shut the door.

"Yes, she is very interesting indeed." Sherlock agreed.

"So, Sherlock- you have a 'different' interest to her.

Sherlock had a feeling he was leading this somewhere. He followed John up the stairs into their flat removing their coats. The tall flatmate tossed his scarf on the couch and strode to his laptop on the table. John sighed easily looking around then to Sherlock, not exactly done with the conversation as much as Sherlock was.

John moistened his lips and took a seat at his chair drumming his fingers on the end of the arm rest. Sherlock was checking through his email in case anyone had a case for him. With no word or change of that 'bored' expression nothing caught his attention. The thought of testing his own little 'experiment' to prove his feelings of her.

"So um, should I put on some tea?" John asked getting to his feet.

"Hm." Sherlock hummed taking the chair to sit in still trifling through the emails. Must of had a lot.

John took a few steps to the kitchen, he paused turning back. "Shall I make three cups then?"

"Oh, yes." Sherlock answered deleting a few useless ones. "Put extra milk in her's."

Well if that didn't prove anything. Sherlock only kept important things in his memory, the fact he kept in there that Helena liked extra milk in her tea was all John needed. But how to prove to Sherlock?

* * *

"With the amount of damage on the poor thing, I'd say at least sixty-five pounds." Ferry informed, but the look the customer gave made him rethink the price. He took his phone out tapping the screen a few times then nodded. "Sorry, meant thirty-three pounds."

The woman found that price more reasonable and agreed. She wrote her number and name down on the small book Ferry had for when people left things to be repaired. Today was a simple pocket watch of a husband's to have fix for his birthday. Once she left, Ferry turned to find his tools, he lifted a green tarp frowning at what he had found. "How long do you intend to hide here?"

Helena turned over looking at him, blinking her eyes at the sudden light from being under the darkness for a while. "Until closing." She answered tugging the tarp to recover her.

Ferry tossed it off her earning a groan as he shoved her off his tool box. "Can't keep hide'n and run'n off when things don't go your way." He told her sternly as he opened the metal box to find his small tool kit to repair the watch. Today Ferry was wearing a black bandana with blue and purple flame designs.

Helena popped up behind it getting to her feet. "I'm not hiding!" She defended only to earn a glance from him not believing her. "I'm just taking a break."

"Well," He found the kit and walked by over to his work table. "some boy toy got you to come in here in a huff." As he was setting his magnifying glass headset he started imitating her anger from an hour ago with an accent to top it off. "'ohh that blimey bastard!' 'show him I will!' 'who does he think he is!?'" Ferry laughed hard seeing the even glare he was receiving.

"First of all," Helena walked over lifting the visor up, "I don't sound like that." She flicked it down earning a yelp from Ferry. "Second, he's not a boy toy."

Ferry grinned as he started taking the watch apart. "Then what is he? Must have done a good job to make you mad."

Helena started playing with a small decorative penny bicycle on the glass counter. Clearly for display not for play. "Just someone I work with to earn my money. He wants to… handle someone for my own good. I didn't want to, he started insulting me and I left."

Ferry was concentrating on the project before him but managed to keep the conversation going. Anything to ease the trouble off Helena. "You gave him a swift kick to the family jewels?"

"No," She chuckled, "Right hooked him."

"Nice." He praised. "Is he usually a jerk to you?"

She now moved to taking a helmet off a fake armor display and tried to see if she can wear it. "More like in general to everybody." She mused lifting the face and slipping it over her head. Yuck- smelled nasty. "We just ram heads now and again."

"So who-" Ferry glanced at a mirror on the wall above him and frowned. "Hey! Put that back!" Helena turned to him and gently took it off her head placed it back. Once he looked back down to his work, she twisted the head to face backwards. "Who is this guy you work for exactly?"

"You don't know him. Probably won't ever meet him." She waved off.

Hawkeye didn't want Ferry to know her true work to Sherlock Holmes or that she was even working for him. Hell she didn't even want him to know about the snatchings she used to do when bringing the jewelry in here. He was glad to hear she had a job, but was highly curious to know about it. Though Helena has no intentions of him ever finding out.

"Sounds like I will know him and I might meet him soon." Ferry teased though his focus growing more on the watch.

With a scoff she wandered around more feeling bored. She had indeed ran here in a huff and just

let out a few muttered curses. Sherlock was not a 'boy toy' no matter how Helena tried to see it. She sighed flicking her finger on a drinking bird letting it swing back and forth with no water to make it dip on it's own.

Bored.

Helena could go to the flat and have Sherlock apologize- oh yea he didn't admit being wrong. Maybe go back and pretend nothing happened between them, and continue with their lives as detective and tramp. Yeah, that sounds better.

….

"Bored…bored, bored… bored, bored…" Helena gave a long pause and came behind Ferry whispering, "_Bored_."

"Ack!" Ferry jumped shoving her away feeling creeped out by the sudden purr, rubbing his ear. "Don't do that when I'm work'n!" He scolded as she just scurried away laughing at his reaction. He nearly shrunk his head down like a turtle as he reluctantly returned to his work. "If you're so bored go do some work with the boy toy."

"I've told you! He's not-"

"Not what?... Helena?" Ferry turned looking around, she was no where in sight. Had she left?

The bell above the door rang, he turned seeing a brown haired teenaer wander in eyes shifting about curiously. Ah, teens were easy to swindle into buying things. He stood rising the visor up and a smile came to his lips. "Well, how can I help you, young man?"

The teen looked over, "Um, I was hoping you had a good…" He looked to have lost track of his mind, looking out the window for an answer he turned back around. "Oh, right!" As Ferry walked over the teen was going through his school bag. "I-I have something I wanted to sell.."

With slow near hesitance movements, he showed the American an aged signet ring. Ferry's eyes near bulged, he'd never seen such a beauty as this! The teen showed it as Ferry got a good look at it. Rose gold of 14k at most with the words 'QUEEN MARY UNIVERSITY OF LONDON' with the emblem. That'd be worth at least 2,000 American dollars!

"Let me have a deeper look."

The brunette handed him it as Ferry took a deeper look with his vizor. "Where'd you get such a ring. You seem a bit young to have this." He innocently asked.

"It was my dad's. He passed away a while ago.. a-a-and I want to bury the hatchet, as to say." It was clear the kid was nervous of this action just by his stuttering and hands rubbing the sweat off his palms.

"Ah, sorry for the loss. You sure he wouldn't want you to keep it?" Ferry asked raising a stern brow.

"Yes, yes!" He answered quickly rubbing his fingers together at his sides.

"...Alright!" Ferry gladly took his phone out and started to do the conversion. "With the age and damage to it, it'd be about….nine hundred pounds."

His frown was almost one of distraught. "Only nine hundred?" The boy asked combing his fingers through his shaggy hair. "Umm, can't it be raised to a thousand?"

"Well," he sighed giving his forehead a scratch. "The age of it lowers the price-"

"I thought age raises it."

"If it's rare, sometimes. This was a personal custom ring from a university. That also lowers the price." Ferry went behind the counter to his register. "I can do… nine fifty at most."

With a soft groan, he glanced outside and turned sharply nodding. "Fine, fine. I-It'll do."

Ferry eyed his movements, he didn't seem suspicious- more tense and nervous if anything. None the less, the pawnbroker took the cash from his register counting the twenties and adding a fifty in there. "There ya go, boy."

"T-Thanks." The teen took the money gently putting it in his blazer pocket and took his exit. He looked up and down the street, and rushed to his left.

The American chuckled, "Kids today. They'll do anything for a spot of cash, right Helena?" The sound of a clink, slam, and doorbell ringing made him turn. "..Helena?" His eyes went down to where the ring was sitting, only to find it replaced with bills of two hundred pounds. Helena had- in a way- bought it off him.

"Well shit." He cussed and looked around seeing he was now alone. He lifted his hand to his head lowering the visor as he walked over to his table to return to his work.

* * *

"Where are you heading, little brother?" Helena asked herself as she followed the teenager from the roofs above him. He was looking around as if trying to find his way or maybe if anyone was following him.

Something gave her an odd feeling, when he came in. She wrapped one of Ferry's bandana's black and white skulls around her mouth and nose to help conceal her face. Covering her head with a red beanie only now her eyes just under the shadows of the hat. Curtis took a sharp left as she turned down the corner of the roof, holding the ring tightly in her hand.

"This was dad's ring he left to Curtis. Why in bloody hell would he ever sell it… something's not right." She found an alley turn up ahead, hoping he wouldn't go down it, she waited watching him.

Curtis was hesitant, scared to go down the dark narrow way. But giving a shuddering sigh, he ventured down it. "Damnit."

"Curtis, you got it!" A boy about a year older than Curtis but in the same uniform, cheered as he made his way in. "You.. did get it, _right_?" He sucked on his cigarette waiting for the boy's arrival.

"Oh, I umm.. Yea, it worked out well!" Curtis tried to achieve with a smile reaching into his pocket.

"Good, very good." The teen flicked his fag into a near by metal trash bin and held a hand out waiting for the reward. "Just hand the payment and you're all cleared.

Curtis gulped, "Now, er, I told him how much I treasured it and all-" He took the bills out allowing the taller teen to snatch it from his hands. "So we-we're good right, Brent?"

Brent counted the bills and rose a brow at him. "You think I'm stupid?" He asked lowly.

"What?! No, no, no! Of course not!" Curtis raised his hands in a surrender as he took a step back.

He pocketed the money and towered him. "This is not a thousand. I told you" He kicked the can over making Curtis jump. "a thousand!"

"I tried to, Brent! I really tried!" Curtis looked behind him seeing two more boys blocking his retreat. He looked back to Brent, "He actually was going to give nine hundred original, I got him up to nine fifty."

Curtis felt pain in his back as Brent grabbed his scraggy hair and slammed him against the brick wall. He winced at the impact and the sharp yanking at his scalp. "You holding out on us?"

"N-No! I-" Curtis was cut off by a hard punch to his gut making his heave over. He curled into a ball onto the ground not expecting that. Coughing, trying to get air back into his lungs whimpering in pain.

Brent let out a laugh as he pressed his shoe onto his head, adding pressure to it. "Now, let's see that bean head of yours pop like a zit!"

"NO! Please!" Curtis cried out.

Brent's gravity was suddenly taken down by a force at his back, as he clashed onto the ground next to Curtis. Thinking something just simply fell on him, it was actually a human being to landed directly onto him. The figure stood and looked to the other two teens who seemed a bit diligent at this.

"Shit! Who the hell is this twat!?" Brent demanded getting to his feet now filthy and a nice scrape on his chin.

Curtis didn't dare speak up as the figure turned to Brent in a threatening manner. He maneuvered to hiding by a dumpster, arm wrapped around his bruised stomach. Brent spat at the figure, he only looked down at the spit on his shoes then looked back up without any words. There was a bandana of skulls covering his nose and mouth, and the beanie shadowed his eyes and hid his hair. The darkness made it hard to see the clothing, but he'd guess they were just as dark.

The dark figure didn't speak, only stared Brent down despite Brent being taller. "Look, you back off."

Brent grabbed his shoulder only to be thrown against the wall more rough than Curtis was. He gasped at the impact, for sure his back was in more pain pressing his arm at his neck to get a good hold. The two teens were about to jump in as the figure whispered something to him. Curtis noticed Brent's tough attitude deluded after the exchange. What did he say.

Soon he threw Brent to the teens who just scrambled off running. The other two watched Brent run off then looked to the figure who held their ground. Deciding against it, the two ran off as well calling for Brent to wait up.

Curtis was a bit amazed, where did this person come from? They just dropped like a bombshell! He was at first glad he arrived, until the figure turned sharply at him. Oh… was he next!? He tried to coil his body to possibly fit behind the dumpster when he started walking towards him.

"P-Please, spare me! I-I wasn't with them! I was-"

The figure then stopped, tilting their head to see not expecting this reaction. Instead, he went into his jacket pocket, and placed the item down on the pavement for him to take. What was it? Giving one last glance, the dark 'hero' jumped onto the dumpster and climbed up the fire escape. Curtis crawled out looking up to see his savoir climb like a spider on the side of the fire escape. Soon getting to the top he got on the roof and disappeared.

Curtis couldn't fathomed what just happened. He was about to get beaten up and now he was all alone… saved? His eyes looked to the shiny object they left, he knelt down picking it up, shocked.

"Dad's ring!? How?" The ring had some paper rolled in the loop, unrolling them he discovered this was the nine hundred fifty he gave to Brent!

He looked up to where the figure escaped, it couldn't have been that pawnbroker. So who saved him, returned the ring, and the money?

* * *

"Mum! I'm home!" Curtis called as he walked into the small home. Receiving no call he rounded to the kitchen finding a note on the fridge. "Oh, went shopping."

He tossed his bag onto the couch in the den and went to the freezer taking a few ice cube muttering, 'cold, cold, cold' to the sink to wrap in a dish towel and press it to his stomach. The teen was a bit glad his mom wasn't home as he still ached from getting punched, and had to clean himself off. Mud was caked on the side of his face and hair. Getting his shaggy hair cut was mentioned more than three times by his mother, but he waved her off. He now thought of it after that event.

Putting the ice in the sink he dunked his head in turning on the facet letting the water soak his hair. Curtis rinsed the brown gunk off his face though his was was a bit hard, he still managed. How to explain to his mom on a wet head… He had a better chance just showering all together.

This bullying had lasted for a good few months, hiding injuries and filth off himself was easy. His mother was none the wiser, as Curtis could always keep a smile when she was around not wanting her to worry.

Deciding to change, Curtis went toward the stairs, yanking his tie off. His elbow knocked into a picture frame on a passing counter, making it fall to the ground. "Crap! Did it break?" Curtis knelt down picking it up, the photo got crooked inside the frame. He undid the back to fix it, but saw the photo had the end folded. Taking it out, he let the end fold open shocked to what he found.

* * *

"Sherlock, it can't be. It just can't." John told looking to his flat mate desperately.

"It has to be John. There is no other way it can't be." Sherlock told sternly his eyes locked with the envelope in John's hands.

"I am telling you, it's not." John opened the envelope and read out, "Mrs. Peacock, in the study, with the revolver."

"Impossible."

"How is it not?" John questions tossing the cards down onto the game board. "These were in the envelope that makes her the killer."

"How could she have any knowledge of using the revolver?" Sherlock frowned picking up her card. "She would have more of a chance with the candle stick."

John stared at his flat mate across the dining table, his mouth ajar and brows knotted. "...What?"

"Observe John; Mrs. Peacock is too elderly and elegant to get her hands dirty let alone have any reason to murder. By the tiara on her head, she has a good amount of money and well health so has no purpose to murdering Dr. Black." Sherlock put her card down and picked up Colonel Mustard card. "This man knows from being in the military on how to handle weapons, like a simple revolver. He would have more of a means to kill Dr. Black for his possible past with him or personal gain of wealth or hating one another. End result- he is the murder."

John blinked at Sherlock, was he serious? Not even two minutes into the game Sherlock has broken four rules so far. John took the manual and read the rules hearing Sherlock add in, "And it wasn't the study it was the conservatory. How else would he have escaped through the secret passage to return to the lounge undetected?"

He didn't know what to say, John Watson actually thought Sherlock Holmes would play this game as he… Then he forgot _who_ exactly he was playing with. "That's not how you play the game Sherlock."

"You deduce who's the murder, I did just that." Sherlock motioned to the board. "It was Colonel Mustard."

"No, the rules say who the killer is, what they used and where in the little envelope. You can't just decide who it is because the weapon doesn't match the suspect."

Sherlock glowered him. "It would make more sense, it's that-"

"No, please no or." John groaned leaning back in the chair hands now over his face.

"_Or_ the victim did it."

Frowning John looked to him folding his hands. "You say the victim killed himself?"

Sherlock looked to the board then to John. "Yes."

Moving the chair back, John stood and took his short strides to the kitchen to make some tea. Sherlock watched him leave, a but confused. Was the game over? John had that look to him so Sherlock started putting the game away now and then watching John brew some tea. "Make a third, extra milk."

This had been going on for three days now. Helena wasn't answering his texts and hasn't come by, and John didn't blame her. Of course she was still mad, and being just as stubborn as Sherlock she wouldn't come by unless he apologized as she said in a text to John. When informing him, the detective simply said it was impossible to happen… Leading to this. Sherlock expecting her to come through her window everytime he set a mug of tea out for her. Sure it was the initial response to his offer of her coming in, but she wasn't taking it. And because of this the milk was running low, John noted to go shopping in a bit today. The two were of course going to butt heads now and again, but Sherlock went a bit far. Sure he has pissed John himself off, and at times wished to knock him out himself but refrained. Helena had a temper indeed, so taking it as she did with the now bruised cheek Sherlock was rewarded with, she couldn't even think to hold back her anger.

Sherlock put the game board away and strode into the kitchen taking the milk from the fridge. John had poured the three cups, Sherlock adding milk to one, and taking the cups away. John returned the milk, but feeling it's empty body just tossed it in the trash. Okay, now he had to do shopping. Sherlock disappeared into the bedroom and reappeared minus one cup. It was obvious Sherlock was asking for her company, just as he kept to John's.

"So, how long you going to keep this up." John asked following him into the living room where Sherlock took his seat at his comfy chair, the doctor leaning at the back of his.

"Keep what up?" Sherlock asked sipping his tea.

He nodded to the hall. "The whole, getting Helena's attention. It's clear you want her to come around, but she hasn't. You only set tea out for her when you want her company."

"Just a simple invite." Sherlock waved off placing his tea beside him.

Simple; almost as if he was claiming this to be a normal thing to do. "Which she is denying."

"But soon will accept."

"And if she doesn't?"

Sherlock hated when John got like this, it annoyed him. "If you're assuming I'll be out to look for her, you're sadly mistaken. That's what a mobile is for and why she has it."

"And yet she ignores your texts." John added a bit snidely.

He watched the smug look on his friend's face. "If you're leading this back to where you think I have _feelings_ for Helena, please go down another path." He asked coldly.

"All the signs are there, Sherlock!" John tried with a smile.

The detective pressed his fingers to his temples, sighing. "Claiming our horoscopes match each other is not a sign."

John counted it as such, having to text Helena to know her birthday and figure out the sign then research her's and Sherlock's together. To his surprise it came out as, 'Cancer though your opposing sign, is likely to be your most fitting partner. Their goals run congruent with your's. They can understand your sacrificial brooding side but their general outlook on life is more supportive, caring, and ultimately, more positive.' when he read Sherlock's best match. It almost scared John how accurate it was.

Before John could argue anymore, the sound of the doorbell rang. Sherlock's head rose, a single ring. "Client."

As Mrs. Hudson answered the door as always, Sherlock left to his room to switch his red dressing gown for his black blazer.. John rolled his eyes, the timing was almost planned to happen for Sherlock. John wasn't one for match maker, but he was absolutely sure Sherlock had some deep feeling for Helena.

As Sherlock tossed his dressing gown onto his bed, he took the blazer from his dresser and slid it on. He turned his thin frame around looking to the mug on the window. It was cold by now and the tea was to be a waste. Keeping the window open made the room colder than the rest of the flat, but it didn't bother Sherlock not being in there a whole lot.

John wasn't as smart as Sherlock -what he thinks at least- but he wasn't completely stupid.

Feelings for Helena, caring for her was a difference to having feelings for her right? He cared for John and Mrs. Hudson but had no feelings. Why couldn't he care for her without the whole questioning of possibly liking her. Not to mention, with how much they argued and her getting mad and ditching him even in mid case, proved she didn't feel the same. If there was something to be mutual about of course.

Sherlock declared she wasn't arriving today, he took the mug and closed the window but kept it unlock. As he left his room shutting the door, he heard John talking to the client. He emptied the mug in the kitchen sink placing it inside this time and walked to the room buttoning his blazer. There he spotted his client standing awkwardly by the coffee table as John sat in his chair.

"Sherlock this is-"

"Oh, I know very well who this is." Sherlock grinned as he looked the boy over deducing who he was just by his hair, uniform, and near identical features of another person.

"Hello Curtis."

* * *

**I hope you all understand the delay in chapters. Thank you for sticking to it like glue and new followers joining. My grandmother is now to pass any day now. I am really sorry it took a while for this chapter to go through. Trying to map out this short plot with Helena, wanna go off the show before Irene makes her appearance.**

**Also, in case anyone is wondering Helena's name is pronounced heh-LEEN-ah. I have a South Jersey accent and tend to say heh-LAIN-ah instead…**

**Out of pure curiosity, does anyone listen to Cabin Pressure? Please answer if you do in a review, this is slightly important to the story. *winks***


	17. Chapter 17

"This young man would like to see you boys." Mrs. Hudson told, as she moved by the door allowing the client in.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

The boy walked in looking around keeping himself near close knit to the wall holding his school bag tightly in his hand. His hair hang around his eyes John looked to his wristwatch, school must have let out. Would Sherlock accept help from a teenager?

None the less, he held a hand out to the boy. "John Watson." He introduced himself as the teen shook his hand. "Sherlock will be out in a moment. You are?"

"Curtis. Curtis V-Vandergriff." He smiled nervously shaking his hand loosely.

Whew, what a mouthful. The boy seemed hesitate of giving his name, John took a thought of what he could be here for. He offered a chair to the boy who just looked around and shook his head. Mrs. Hudson made her way back down to her flat. John took his seat just as Sherlock returned in his blazer.

"Sherlock, this is-"

"Oh, I know very well who this is." Sherlock grinned as he looked the boy over deducing who he was just by his hair, uniform, and near identical features of another person. Sherlock held a hand out to the boy, "Hello Curtis."

The teen blinked at him, to his hand looking almost scared to touch the detective. He reach for it, but Sherlock swiped his hand back and strode to his chair. John watched him, then looked to the boy that stood awkwardly. "So, Curtis, what can help you with? Girlfriend trouble?"

"Girlfri- oh no, no girl trouble." Curtis started shuffling through his school bag.

"No girl to have trouble with." Sherlock told with his hands steepled to his chin watching the teen.

He had that deduction look on his face, already he was reading everything about this boy. Question John had, why hasn't he kicked him out yet? Teenagers usually came around with typical teen problems and Sherlock shooed them right out. Something was different.

"M-Mr. Holmes, I had a strange encounter-"

"Before you bring up your possibly boring tale," Sherlock interrupted rudely. "What is the reason for you to come here?"

Curtis moistened his chapped lips clearing his throat, "I-I need you to find someone."

"Is this person missing?" John asked with slight concern.

"Possibly." he answered looking up to them as he searched his school jacket pockets. "Someone I don't know."

John frowned, "Someone you don't know? How are they missing if you don't know them."

Curtis looked to Sherlock then to John. "That's why I've come. I need to find them and know who they are."

"W-Who this person, first of all?"

"Sister." The boys looked to Sherlock who eyed Curtis. "Looking for your sister. That's why you've come, Curtis." Sherlock nodded to his bag. "Got a photo of a girl you've never seen in your family photo? Hidden within the frame?"

Curtis' lip tugged upwards. "Y-Yes! That's exactly it! A sister!?" The teen was growing excited as he finally found the photo and showed it to the boys. Sherlock has seen it before, the boy with his mother and father. What he didn't see was the little girl beside the father's left. Sherlock knew right away, as did John who leaned over pointing at it.

"Isn't that-"

"A peculiar case, John? Indeed it is." Sherlock smiled to John quickly then took the photo looking it over.

"So, you say I have a sister?" Curtis asked rubbing his knuckles anxiously.

"Possibly, the resemblance is too close to be cousins and she clearly wouldn't be a childhood friend at the age difference or to even be in a family photo." Sherlock waved the photo about looking to Curtis.

"Why not ask your parents?" John questioned leaning his chin to his hand. He knew by now this must have been Helena's Curtis, her brother. Now looking at him, he did see a resemblance in the eyes.

"Father is dead, judging by the ring on his finger, it was passed down to you. The son of the family." Sherlock explained, then tilting his head. "No, if there is a sister than it was given as the only thing left of him to the 'only child'. It's not something to be given son to son, being only a university signet ring." John rubbed his forehead, Sherlock kept on going. "Your are not in university though- not yet. Too young- well not _too_ young. Judging just by your uniform you're finishing up two more years than college."

Curtis was still amazed by Sherlock's knowledge of him just by his ring alone. Nodding, he looked down a bit, searched for a chair and took the one at the dining table. "My dad passed away when I was little, a bit after that was taken. I assumed at first maybe she died with him. But if so, why hide her in the photo?" The teen scratched his near wild head. "I thought about asking my mum."

Sherlock held the photo up. "What is her reason though? You fear to ask so you came to me."

He nodded. "I've heard about you from some friends in school. About how you can solv amazing cases. You even worked with the famous Hawkeye!"

The boys perked up, famous? Hawkeye? Sure she was known for her stunts on tv and petty crimes, but was her fame worth that much? Sherlock looked to John, then again his blogger had to have mentioned her once or thrice.

"Famous seems a bit farfetch'd, don't you think?" John asked getting to his feet and leaning on the dining table with folded arms.

Curtis gripped his bag. "But she is! My friends talk about her wanting to hear more about her. Even looked for her hoping she would be flying over the buildings."

"...Flying."

"Yes!"

John looked to Sherlock who just rose his brows at him innocently. He wasn't a blogger, he didn't give her the attention. Nor write the way he did, his descriptions were silly to the tall man.

"I was hoping, if anyway I can pay you Mr. Holmes." Sherlock stood tossing the photo onto the table and paced to the fireplace. "If you could find her and bring her back, I have questions that need answers. Ones only she can give me."

"How do you know she's even alive?" He questioned, hands folded behind his back standing erect by is precious skull facing away from the boy. He found it slightly amusing that he was searching for his sister who was Hawkeye that saved him, and didn't know it. Not a bright boy.

The teen looked to John who shrugged showing he wasn't in agreement to Sherlock's words, whatever he was planning. "I… think she is alive. Somewhere here in London. I was four in the photo, she looks to be about ten or so."

"Twelve." Sherlock corrected smugly.

"..T-Twelve. Wow, eight year difference." Curtis shot to his feet waving his hands a bit around his head to do some small math. "Then she has to be.. Twenty-seven! Wow, m-maybe she's working somewhere in the city!"

Sherlocked scoffed, "Please, Curtis." He turned to him, "Do you seriously think you're twenty-seven possible lost sister still resides in London, or even living?"

Curtis gulped at Sherlock's intense stare. He wasn't one for argument, he was counted a bit as a wimp in school, hence the bullies. But Sherlock knew, the bruise as his jawline; not by the color as it was hidden by cover up, but it swelled more than his left side. He didn't make eye contact, hand motions of anxiety, and sweat building at his forehead.

"Yes."

Done teasing the poor boy Sherlock sighed and clasped his hands getting attention back on it. "I'll take the case."

Curtis' eye shot up and a big smile stretched across his face. He jumped taking Sherlock's hand and shaking it harshly. "Thank you, thank you ever so much!"

Sherlock resisted the urge to shove the boy away but just roughly took his hand back and gave a stern glare. John stood and turned the boy from the non-touchy detective. "We'll give you updates on what we find, Curtis."

"Thanks again!" He cried as John showed him to the door swapping phone numbers to keep in contact. "Oh, and if alright, my mum must not know about this." He looked guilty keeping it from his mother, but had a begging look in his eyes. Helena had the same look a few times before.

"Don't worry, it's just us boys." John assured patting his shoulder. Curtis smiled to the blogger as he opened the door for him. He left down the street back home, John watched him go and turned back inside. Back up in the flat John found Sherlock back in his red dressing gown and now playing his violin, he thought he heard it halfway up the stairs.

He gave no comment but returned to his laptop in his chair as Sherlock played was playing a somber…. sad tune. Hm, he wasn't one to play sad songs. In fact, he usually played the violin mostly at night when he couldn't sleep or didn't want to talk. It was well in the afternoon and Sherlock was one eager to play Cluedo until Curtis arrived.

Now that John thought about it, how was Sherlock going to 'solve' this case when the boy's sister is actually Hawkeye? He remembered Helena had connections cut from the family after her father's death, would this possibly bring the family back together?

For now, he didn't think too much of it. He just listening to the violin strings play as Sherlock let out his emotions into the instrument. It was obvious that he was missing Helena.

* * *

"So, no one has seen him?" Hawkeye asked as she brought food to two siblings from the homeless community.

"Not at all." Answered the sister as she took the nicely warm container of soup.

The brother nodded as he sloppily slurped his own. "Hm-hm. After Mr. Holmes assured that you were fine and in safe hands, he had a cross look in his eyes." The little brother of about twelve tried to imitate the same look.

Hawkeye frowned. "Thanks, enjoy the soup you two." She smiled to them and picked up the plastic bags as she had more soup to deliver.

"Anytime Hawkeye, thank you for the food." The elder sister smiled.

"Bless!" Cheered the boy, Hawk gave a chuckle ruffling the boy's head and moving to the next.

It seemed the past few days were a bit of a blur to Helena. She had been cross with Sherlock yes, but when Trevor wasn't seen much she now focused her worry on him. So far all she knew had said he hadn't seen him lately since she got better. Some wondered how she was, but Helena told she was fine and well, excluding anything about being taken by Moriarty's men and nearly killed.

Last she had been with Trevor was when she was kidnapped. He was going to take her to the community, until some strangers attacked them. Trevor sounded like he got hurt bad by the grunts and punched thrown. She was injected with something in her neck and the next thing Helena knew, she was handcuffed to John who was strapped with a bomb.

Helena shook the remnant thoughts out. John wasn't as nearly as shaken as she was, granted he was a soldier, she hoped it didn't trigger anything from there. Sherlock probably faced that danger everyday of his detective life.

A ping, the near painful feeling pricked her chest, hand pressed against her jacket patting her chest. The feeling of wanting something, the thought of that night brought a feeling of dread, but when Sherlock was near the dread faded to solace. Well he did save the two, the feeling of protection was normal when that happened. The same feeling as when Helena protected and helped Trevor his first days homeless.

"Well hello, Hawk!"

She turned tossing a smile seeing Nick come over. "Hey Nick, I hope you can help me."

The man tilted his head, noticing the stress in her eyes. "Something wrong?"

"A bit." She nodded walking with Nick to a woman to give her some soup. "I've asked around, and no one seems to know where Trevor is. Last I was with him was before- the night I got my bandages off and he, disappeared since." Her hands rubbed against one another after giving the soup and picked up the bag. A kid came up yanking her jacket, Helena turned and handed the last container to the child before he scurried off.

"Worried about him?" Nick asked taking the plastic.

"Greatly. I know he's been on the streets for a while, but it's been days. I thought he'd be here for my return." Hawk sighed rolling her sleeve giving her am a scratch.

Nick titled his head at the stressed looking girl. After all she'd done helping here, was easy for him to help back. "I actually saw him with Mr. Holmes."

Her head shot up. "Sherlock?"

He nodded, "Last I saw him. Mr. Holmes wanted to know where your accident occurred, Trevor told us where so I showed him. Trevor showed up, then I left."

The blank face almost felt like Nick hadn't helped her at all. Her mind was processing what information she was just given. Soon her eyes rolled back along with her head letting out a low growling groan. Oh, that didn't sound good. Her hands came through her hair tightly. "Ohhhh, for _fuck's _sake!"

"Is something wrong?" Nick asked.

She sighed, throwing her hands to her side. "I have to go Hawk stalked off to interrogate a certain Consulting Detective.

* * *

This was getting out of hand, now. First the board game, then the violin playing, now he was watching the telly. Usually this wasn't a big deal, he would flick the news on or on occasion the DI to watch about unsolved cases. Though he was instead watching the Jeremy Kyle show. Last time he was watching this, was the night of the pool incident.

Sherlock sat there in his chair, fingers knotted against his tight lips. He stared intensely at the screen, near glaring it. One leg crossed over the other, before his knee was bouncing so he looked a bit more relaxed. Despite the excitement on the show, Sherlock only mumbled a few things to himself. Probably saying how things were wrong about results.

John peeked over at him time to time over his newspaper. Yup, still hasn't moved. The doctor was growing concern, still no response from Helena. He even keeps his phone within hand reach in case he gets a text. So far just two from Mycroft and a call from Lestrade, who he instantly hung up on without a word. First thinking that it was an uninterested case, he then realized that Sherlock barely let a word out.

"Bored?" John finally asked skimming over a paper to look as if he hadn't been watching him. When no response was given, he shots his eyes over seeing Sherlock still staring intently at the screen. "Sherlock?"

"Hm? What?" Sherlock nodded his head showing he heard-sort of.

"Do you plan to sit there and watch crappy telly all day?" John asked. "I thought you had a case to solve?

"Already solved." He shot back refusing to look away from the tv despite a commercial was playing. He then tilted his head squinting at his answer. "Halfway."

"Halfway?"

Finally the telly was turned off and Sherlock stood looking to his blogger. "I have solved the case of who Curtis' missing sister is. True in a way he has already encountered her when he was in danger. But he doesn't know it's her, nor does he ever plan to have him find out it's her."

John blinked at him, and extended his hands out for Sherlock to finish. "So…"

"Thus, the case is half solved, and may never be." He plopped back into his chair now drumming his fingers on the arm rest once more. Well John got far in that. At least he wasn't watching that trash now.

The blogger sucked his lips in thought, how could he get Sherlock out there. Since the case was 'solved' -or half solved- he had no purpose to leave the flat. Not to mention Helena was ignoring texts from him so searching for her wasn't worth a chore to the detective.

"A unsolved case by Sherlock Holmes- can't wait to write that." He said eagerly. Folding the newspaper, he reached for his laptop logging into his blog. Before he could even type one letter, a hand slammed down closing the laptop. John looked up finding Sherlock's intense glare.

"Don't mention unsolved ones."

John's patience with Sherlock was thinning. "Hands off the laptop." He warned, Sherlock waited but roughly removed his hands standing erect. He let a exhale out through his nose to calm down, he was just bored. That's all.

Sherlock stalked into the room then re-emerged a few minutes later dressed and slipping his coat on scarf in hands. John didn't have to ask where he was going, but sighed when seeing how roughly in anger he was tying the scarf. "Are you going to look for her?"

"No." He hissed shooting his collar up. "To the morgue." And shot off down the stairs he went.

Of course, "Hm-hmm." John mused opening his laptop and continued typing. He believed him, Sherlock wasn't in _that _state of desperation to go look for her himself.

* * *

Molly was just about done her lunch when she was returning to her work in the lab. Her long smooth brown hair was in a tight pony tail, temptation to make into a messy bun came to mind. Little mousy features looked focus as she looking over her clipboard of her remaining work. Lunch was boring as usual, and despite the usual work with dead people and body parts, she still had a strong appetite for roast beef back at the cafeteria. The pasta looked questionable today.

With a small sigh she entered the lab, but jumped with a small yelped finding someone there. Someone… dark and gloomy like who hovered over the microscope- no glared down it. Her lips trembled to utter the question she repeated in her mind. The words soon spilled out, "Whoareyou?"

The figure glanced up looking a bit more surprised than Molly herself. Expecting another person, they felt to be in the wrong room. "Pardon?"

Molly got her words together. "Who are you? This is a classified room- building."

"I'm here just to find someone." The hooded female removed her hood and let her auburn hair fall around her neck and shoulders. "Where is Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock? This woman was looking for Sherlock? First thought in Molly's head was, why? Only people she saw ever looking for Sherlock here was Greg Lestrade. "Um, do you need him for a case?" She asked back only to earn a raised brow from the woman.

"It's classified." She answered stiffly leaning back on the stool she sat upon.

Molly blinked, classified? She took a gulp and took a near cautious step over to her work space by the door. "I-I haven't seen him." She answered as she started to pull the blue latex gloves. "If you're looking for him, he lives-"

"I know where he lives, and I refuse to go near that flat." She snapped. "I hear he comes here at times so I thought I'd give it a shot."

Molly turned to her, was this girl a client or part of the police? She wasn't one to deduct but it was honestly hard to tell if she was or not mostly that she wouldn't tell why she needed Sherlock- to see him of course. But the mousy girl had a feeling this woman knew Sherlock personally.

As far as Molly's memory went, she knew he had a flatmate John Watson, Lestrade went to him for cases, and his landlady Mrs. Hudson Greg has told her about. But, this girl slips her mind. Had Sherlock ever mentioned an auburn haired acquaintance before? By her tone, she didn't seem to favor him. He was known for putting people off with his deducing and side comments.

"Sounds like a fight-" She commented then turned with an opposite expression. "Sorry! Didn't mean to say that outloud."

The woman blinked but chuckled waving a hand. "You could say that, the usual really. Think I'd be over his cheeky insults by now." She sighed getting to her feet and wandering around the room.

"I see, no one is used to it really." Molly turned smiling nervously. She never actually told anyone how she felt about Sherlock's comments and abused words to others. Like the time he claimed she gained a few pounds and- Molly was passed that. It hurt, but he did end up getting hurt by that Jim anyhow.

"True there. Not even John Watson, he looks tempted to slam him a few rounds." She laughed, getting Molly to giggle with her. She soon smiled walking over to Molly and holding a hand out. "Helena."

Molly removed a glove -not wanting to get anything on the girl since she was just touching chemical covered bottles- and shook her hand gently. "Molly Hooper."

Helena's eyes got big retracting her hand to her hip, the other pointed at the girl. "Molly… John mentioned you." Oh, John did. of course Sherlock wouldn't. "You helped me get out of that Blind Banker case."

Helped? Molly was a bit confused. "Helped? How did I help?" She asked tossing the removed glove and replacing it with a new.

"Back when Sherlock needed to prove my innocence; he needed to see the victim's feet to show the tattoos that proved they were part of the black lotus. He came to Scotland Yard and I didn't have one. That and another victim died while I was…" Helena cleared her throat shaking her head a bit.

"Oh.. Oh, right!" Molly remembered Sherlock mentioned releasing whoever 'her' was when showing Dimmock the feet. "He never mentioned a name so I was confused who 'she' was." She explained.

Helena shrugged sitting at the stool across from Molly, now smiling and in a better mood than before. Molly was an adorable 'mousy' girl, and by her words she wasn't spared by Sherlock's Insufferable words.

As the two talked, the door opened allowed the exact man the two women were talking about enter the room in a near rush. "Molly, I need to examine-"

He stopped in his tracks finding the two women laughing wholeheartedly. Had… he ever even heard Molly laugh or be loud in general? And Helena, he hadn't heard her laugh for a good while. Since before her eye accident at most. The females didn't seem to even acknowledge him and kept on with their joyous conversation.

"O-Oh, and how he has to have the collar up to look so _cool_!" Helena barked out slapping her knee as Molly tried to control her giggling. "I swear, he imagined himself in those cop shows and thinks he's such a-"

"**Ahem**!"

The two turned finding the obviously offended detective at the door removing his gloves and scarf, near glaring the two- mostly Helena. Molly instantly felt like a mouse caught stealing food, she took her work of chemicals and left the room avoiding his stare. She held off her work long enough anyway. Helena just glared back, but her lips trembled to keep a serious expression. After all that they talked about, now looking at the man it was hard to keep a straight face.

Sherlock was used to people talking about him- bad more than good. It hurt at times but he hid the pain well and just countered with his usual deductions. That was his near defense mechanism, then again _that_ was what caused people to hate him… so an endless loop really.

He huffed a sigh and got his scarf off his neck, asking, "I'm surprised to see you indoors."

Ohh, and the trembling stopped. Anger was set back in Helena's mind, but she threw a smirk and leaned back onto the counter behind her. She didn't retort back, just simply beamed at him to either hide her anger or just to annoy him- she hoped number two worked.

He noticed said smile and just removed his coat and laid them over a cleared counter with his other stuff and got to looking for what to do. He honestly was more shocked to find Helena here then Molly talking to her. Did the tramp even know he came here at times? John probably told her.

With no reply, he found some blood samples left by Molly and decided to compare them to entertain himself. Nothing of course was entertaining unless it had a deep purpose like finding a murderer or a cause of death. It's just mindlessly staring at blood cells really. As he sat at his usual spot looking into his microscope, Sherlock didn't hear a rebuttal still.

Helena watched him, he only peeked to her once but then just stared down for a few minutes. Assuming he was now in full concentration, Helena thought of a good joke. From what she's experienced, Sherlock ruffles his hair when stressed or troubled on a case. It was kind of cute when he did it, wanting a bit of revenge of his comment- Helena stood pattering over behind the man, her hands rose above his head. Without a second thought or the consequences, her hands dug deep into his dark curls and roughly messed his hair about surely even messing the part he had.

"Hey, hey!" Sherlock barked swatting her hands away, he jumped to his feet and glaring down darkly at the grinning girl. She laughed at how his hair was near sticking in odd directions and the curls over his forehead covered his eye.

"So that's what it looks like when not prepped up!" Helena laughed harder wiping her eyes, that was well worth it.

"Childish." He spat attempted to fix his hair. His hair was usually never too disheveled, but when one just goes and does _that- _it turns to be a real mess. "Feel better doing that, Hawk?"

Helena let a few more giggles out and looked up at him. "Not completely, but you did deserve it." She soon controlled her laughter enough to see he managed to just about fix it. "..I'm still mad." She stated, with humor in her tone still.

"You sure sound it." He replied bluntly, Sherlock would've looked back into the microscope but instead kept eye contact with her.

"..In fact I was in rage when I came here looking for you." Helena explained now sounding more serious with crossed arms.

His brows narrowed low over his eyes, was it all the texting he sent her? What in blazes could he have done with no contact of her for days. "Have I done something?"

She nodded, "Indeed. And I have looked for you to interrogate you." Helena turned the light if the microscope off and leaned on the counter.

"Interrogate me of what? Why I wanted you to-"

"No! Not that rubbish!" She barked and narrowed her eyes at him. "What did you say to Trevor?"

"...Trevor?" Of course he doesn't remember his name.

"Yes! Trevor!" Helena snapped, the anger returned full swing. "The one you questioned about my little accident? The one who called John that I was in the hospital? That _Trevor_!"

"….Oh. That Trevor." Was his name Trevor? Sherlock thought it was Steve for some reason. His answer was to a shrug. "I simply asked what happened when you went missing. When Jim Moriarty-"

"I told you not to get involved in it. It was a honest accident, and if Trevor wasn't there I would've been blinded for life or worse." Sherlock stayed silent letting her rant continue. "Whatever you said to him, no one has seen him in days. 'How do you know he's missing?', you inquire?" She imitated his voice, which seemed to be something she and John did often at him.

"Because the last anyone else other than I saw him was when you talked to him. 'When did you see him?'. It was right before Jim kidnapped me. Trevor was going to take me from the museum, the place you forgotten all about me, and see the community. That's when a car came up and these guys attacked us, mostly Trevor and that's…" Her voice calmed and tone lowered after a sigh. "That's when I last heard about him. So.. So you were the real last to talk to him!"

Sherlock swallowed in all that she told. So, he was there when she was taken. Trev failed to inform this to her or report this in. Why didn't he say this to him when asked when he last saw her?

_"Might I ask where that came from?" Sherlock indicated the bruise on his jawline, looked fresh. "Oh, um just got tussled with a bad pack. Not much of a fighter." He chuckled with a shrug._

This had just confirmed Sherlock's suspicion and mental accusation toward Trevor. His complete evidence of lying not once, but twice at the detective was a big mistake.

"So, I came here to find out." Helena stepped to Sherlock and leaned into his face glaring deeply into his eyes. She asked lowly, "Where's Trevor?"

Sherlock had one answer, but could he say it to her? Her of all people. Would she even believe if he told? Not to mention there was the 'case' with her brother. John had scolded him at least over ten times to be careful what he says; there was a good time and a bad time. But Sherlock couldn't tell if this was good or bad. Tell her the truth of Trevor's whereabouts, or her brother asking him to find his sister. What should he say?

* * *

**I AM SO SORRY FOR BEING GONE LONGER THAN A MONTH! But once again thank you for understanding! The convention past and… I don't want to get into it honestly. Let's say next year will be better.**

**I struggled **_**LARGELY **_**with this chapter, the plot is really becoming thicker and with my perfectionist side banging the side of my head, it takes longer to think how to have it make sense, still mysterious, and keeping the characters in… well character.**

**I'll be going into my own Arc for Sherlock and Helena to connect more and for her background to get more involved. So the infamous (famous) Irene Adler won't be showing up for a while. Remember there was a time frame between The Great Game and A Scandal in Belgravia.**


	18. Chapter 18

Quiet evening, nice book, warm fire, and the flat to himself. This would be the second best way to spend this time. First would be to have a girl to bring back with no Sherlock around. It had been a long, _long_ while since he left and John wasn't the least bit worried. Surely he was out looking for Helena and would leave the two to sort things out…. if they did. Between Sherlock owing a sorry for what he said, the case about her brother, and Helena not contacting him since; there was a lot the hope to be couple needed to get past.

John could see the two had differences, but people say opposites attract. He was going to think of him and Sherlock as an example, but that'd be taken out of context. The urge to write about this in his blog pecked his brain all day, Sherlock would kill him for sure though if anything on romantic relationship was spread out.

The sound of thudding was heard, John looked up, where did that come from? He looked back down at book hearing footsteps from Sherlock's room. "Shall I make some tea?" He asks smirking at the eyes now set on him.

"No thanks," Helena answers taking the hood off her head. "Came over for a quick bath if alright?"

"Of course." John smiled as she sighed leaning against the doorway looking around. Looking for Sherlock. "No, he's not back. He's off looking for you."

She chuckled crossing her arms. "Funny, I ended up finding him at the morgue."

"What were you doing there?" John lowered his book, now forgotten. "Were you looking for him?"

Helena nodded biting her lip. "That pillock, he's lucky I didn't smash his head with all the test tubes there."

Ohh, that explained the need for a bath, need of relaxation. He could highly sympathize with her. John chucked the book to the chair across from him and got to his feet asking, "What'd he do this time." making his way to the kitchen.

Helena was right on his tail and flicked his ear, he jumped and looked over. "You're in trouble too!"

"...Me?" Now that was rare. What did he do?

"Yes, you knew he was on a case involving my brother and didn't tell me. Did you blog about him at all, about how we're related or how I was the one who got his ring back? Anything at all, John Watson?"

He blinked at her by the sudden demand from Helena. She was usually doing this to Sherlock so this was new to John to earn this himself. "..N-no, I didn't." He continued cautiously to make tea for the two. "If anything, I tried to convince Sherlock to tell you about it. ..Did he?"

Helena sent the glare another direction and huffed, recalling it all for John.

* * *

"So, I came here to find out." Helena stepped to Sherlock and leaned into his face glaring deeply into his eyes. She asked lowly, "Where's Trevor?"

Sherlock cleared his throat after _hard_ thinking, and answered with a calm tone, "I met your brother."

"...That's not funny."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No, I did. Curtis; he arrived at the flat wanting to see me."

Helena leaned back from leering at him, leaning against the counter. She broke eye contact and looked at some beakers across from her. "Why?" She asked softly.

Well, seems this answer was the right one. "He asked John and I that he needs me to find him someone." Sherlock then pointed the finger at her.

"Oh, probably because I saved him from those prick teens that were going to beat him up, right?"

"No, not Hawkeye. He wants us to find his sister."

Helena's eyes got wide. "What!?" She slammed a hand down on the counter making a near by beaker wobble, Sherlock held it in place. "How in the hell does he know about me!? Did he discover my face? Someone slip him who I was!?" Sherlock raised a hand about to speak, "I swear if you tell me to calm down, you'll be finding it hard to do blood samples with _that_ up your cock!" She barked motioning to the microscope.

"...Although that is physically impossible-"

"Try me." She hissed.

Sherlock drummed his fingers on the table, Helena and her anger. "He doesn't know Hawkeye is his sister." He paused letting Helena's seething stop. "That photo of him and your parents? He found it folded in the frame, with you in it."

Helena took in some air and pinched the bridge of her nose thinking of how to even react to this. "It wasn't supposed to be like that." She muttered letting her hand fall over her mouth thinking as she stared in the distance. "What'd you tell him?"

"I said I would find his sister, of course I took the case." Sherlock answered glancing to his blood samples, no point in those anymore. He stood and leaned on the table across from Helena to keep eye contact with one another. The detective wanted to keep track of her dilation and breathing.

"He said how he wants to meet the 'hero' Hawkeye during this case." He added.

Helena chuckled weakly. "Me a hero? He's pretty damn funny."

It grew silent, Helena taking in the information while Sherlock waited for whatever emotion was to come out next. "You can trust that I won't be allowing this case to be solved." She looked at him.

"I will be solving this case."

Helena stared at him for a short moment, she took a step towards him with hands down at her side. "You do realize your case involves catching the uncatchable Hawkeye?" She smiled at him lowering her volume.

Sherlock smirked and took a step closer as well closing the space between the two; her looking up and him looking down. "I caught you once before," He told in a whisper.

Their hands met one another keeping their eyes locked, Helena leaned her head up arching up toward his neck, then to his ear breathing down his collar. Sherlock originally never liked close contact, but with Helena he allowed it. Expanding the limits more and more as it went on. Inside, Sherlock felt no urge to shove her off, spat her hand away, or even give any sign of disgust or annoyance. Her lips returned edging toward his own pair; eyes dilated, pulse bumping, all but Helena's.

Wait-

_**Click!**_

* * *

"Wait, where did you get the handcuffs?" John asked as the two now had fresh mugs of tea standing in the kitchen.

"Nicked it off a passing officer." She shrugged stirring the well added milk.

John lowered his mug, "I thought there wouldn't be any more pick pocketing?"

Helena looked to him. "You have to admit, he deserved it. I was originally going to handcuff him to a car door but instead used the stools."

He shook his head, they were like children. "Did you at least leave the key there?"

She finished her tea putting the mug down in the sink. "What key?" She winked.

John chuckled at that, boy they were two of a kind. "So, you didn't kiss him?"

A frown came at that assumption. "Of course not. I thought at first I'd have to, but he was actually distracted already. Didn't even feel the cuffs around his wrist."

It was John's turn to frown with knitted brows. That move alone distracted him? The medical man hadn't really ever heard or seen Sherlock easily tricked in such a way. But then again as Sherlock always said, Helena was _different_.

"Do you care for Sherlock?" John suddenly asked.

Helena raised a brow. "I guess so?"

Alright, he had to stop being subtle. "Do you fancy him?"

The tramp thought shortly and answered, "Nope."

Oh, that caught John off guard.

Helena sighed with a smile, "Text me when he's gotten free."she left the kitchen back down the hall. "Never Mind the bath, I must be off before he returns. Thanks for the tea, John!" Out the window she went to roam the streets.

The answer she gave him made him ponder a bit, she was a bit easier to figure out then Sherlock and he knew him longer.

John had hoped she would've stayed longer, but respected how she was with domesticated lives as she put it. He wondered if she would ever have her own home and life, but once again she was different. Twice as stubborn as Sherlock Holmes himself.

His phone in the other room alerted him that a text was sent. Putting the cup down, he strode over picking up the device, seeing it was from Helena. He expected it from Sherlock, but read it nonetheless.

**Might want to go help him**

**I placed his cellphone on his bedside table**

**before leaving**

**\- Hawk**

John pursed his lips nodding. "Fair enough.." Looks like his relaxation was cut shorter than assumed.

* * *

"You have to admit, it is a bit absurd." Said a female student on the other side of the Skype call.

Curtis at his desk in front of his laptop swayed in his chair left to right. "The assignment or the short time they expect it to be done?" He asked his classmate who was currently painting her fingernails.

"Both." She blew on her nails and presented them to the camera of a neon yellow and orange pattern. "How's that?"

He smiled, "Perfect."

Lotte was a classmate and friend of Curtis. Though he did have a huge crush on her, he had been friend zoned by her multiple times. Despite this, he still finds her a pretty cool girl. Her short bleach hair that was dyed many times before, was pale orange fading into purple to the ends of her hair. Lotte wasn't a thin girl, but neither a big girl. She was built well and had good curves to her her waist, the skirts for school made her look a bit shorter then her original 5'4 height. Shadowed blue eyes were brought out thanks to her hair color. Although her looks may make people think she was some punk or rebel, she just liked being different.

Lotte May moved to England two years ago from New Zealand. Most would think foreign kids got good attention, not Lotte. Because she came from New Zealand, she was bullied and teased a lot for being a redneck and for her father's job which caused the move. Her mother stayed back, causing Lotte to pick to either stay with her mom or join her father, even though she knew the hate she would receive. Curtis was on her side and thought her accent wasn't so 'chav', he defended her even gotten beaten up for siding with her. The two never separated though, as he helped her adjust life in London.

"You going to paint your face for the game as well?" Curtis asked as he reached over for his drink up capping it.

"I thought of it," Lotte said fanning her fingers to the sides. "But finding paint that won't smear is hard. Plus, you have to wear it with me!"

Curtis gulped his water and put the bottle down giving a chuckle. "Do I really have to?"

She laughed, "Yes, you do! You need team spirit too!"

He shook his head, she always got him involved in her things. "We can search for something tomorrow after school at a party store."

She found her nails dry enough, leaning on her desk tilting her head at the camera. "Not one too far, I need to be home to cook dinner."

Curtis nodded, and went to Google maps. After a silent search, he scrolled through the nearest part store between their houses and school. "There's one that's a few minutes between my house and the school."

Lotte beamed, "Sounds like date. If we get it in time, I'll squeeze in time to hang out."

The male teen blinked with heated cheeks. "..Y-Yea? Sounds perfect!" Inside he was smacking himself to get a grip from her.

She looked to the left where her bedroom door was. "I better get to bed before dad sees my light." Lotte waved, "G'night."

Curtis smiled softly and waved back, "Night." She ended the call on her end, he closed the laptop and flopped onto his bed with a sigh. His eyes gazed around his room, typical for a teenage male. Although less sex mags and naked woman posters then other boys his age, Curtis wasn't that kind of boy.

Without much sleep, Curtis felt like he awoke five minutes after he fell asleep. Of course that's what he gets for staying up til 2 am. The teen yawned all through breakfast lucky that his mom went to work early, she would've gotten on him about being so tired. Classes passed by in a blur as on the way to school Curtis had just remembered about both his 'date' and the case he asked Sherlock Holmes about. He wanted to tell someone about this feeling deep in him; fear and excitement. But he doubted anyone would believe him that Hawk saved him or that he met Sherlock Holmes for a case.

The urge to contact about how it was going came to his mind now and again. But he couldn't annoy the detective, he was lucky he heard him out. It's been a day since the case as taken, and from reading the blog it seemed to usually take Sherlock one to four days to finish a case depending on the said subject. Puzzles took maybe a few hours, murders took a day or two. Missing persons? So far Curtis hasn't seen as such unless it was a person targeted or found murdered. A shudder went up his spine as he left the school building in thought of his long lost sister dead.

The teen stopped his striding as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He read it was a text from Lotte.

**Friend needs help with something**

**will be there soon**

**-Lotte**

Curtis didn't mind waiting for her, so he leaned against the outer wall of the school property looking around as other students passed by for home or to hang out. He didn't mind that no one gave him a second glance, he liked being invisible.

"Hey, have you seen that little dick Curtis?"

Ohh, of course. Curtis couldn't get a break from Brent. The teen heard him in the school yard, peeking around he saw someone point toward the gates. Oh great! Franticly looking around he jogged down the pavement and jumped into a -just his luck- pricker bush. Curtis covered his mouth to keep from yelling in pain as everything pricked, stabbed, and stuck through his clothing into his skin.

Hearing the clacking of those shoes made him hold his breath too. But to his despair it was Lotte seeing those colored nails that hung at her side. "Did Curtis go a head of me? I wasn't going to be long." He knew that accent anywhere, no doubt it's her.

A friend of her's stood by, "Typical of a boy." she scoffed. "We can still hit the sale I texted you about if we go now."

Curtis kept his eyes down at their shoes seeing Lotte turn to the friend. "I should at least text or call to see where he is." She suggested taking her phone out of her school bag.

He instantly reached for his cell phone in his pocket as quietly as he could ready to mute his phone or just plain turn it off. "Lotte," Sighed the friend. "just admit it; he's a.. bit of a muppet." He glared in her direction.

Lotte had her time to learn the words of the British, some terms used against her and some she knew from home. "He's not, Curtis is just.. different."

Curtis felt his heart sink. Different- was that bad? She hesitated on the answer. "He's more than different." Said her friend who tapped her shoe, folding her arms. "Admit it, Curtis is like a puppy. You're the only one he talks to, he barely speaks in class."

"Come on, he isn't that bad…" Lotte said as she started walking, her friend following after.

"Are you kidding?"

After the school students dispersed, Curtis still didn't want to leave the sanctity of the bushes. Was he a burden to Lotte? Well, she was his only friend. All the boys just teased and bullied him, seems even the girls talk about him behind his back. Girls are more evil than he thought.

The feeling to tell his mom came to him now and again, but he couldn't worry her over some childish bullying. If he just ignores it long enough, he'll be out and free of it all.

But for now, he tried to think of a way out of this bloody pricker bush with as little pain as possible.

* * *

Jumping and near soaring from roof top to roof top, Hawk kept her sharp eyes out for her friend Trevor wherever she could find him. Usually she kept her sights on Curtis around this time, but with Sherlock wanting to end his case his way, she refused to be near for now. Sure there were spots Sherlock wouldn't be able to find her when watching her brother, but he is at times on dot with her.

For now, her concern was on her missing friend that a certain prat refused to give information to about. After he told about her brother, all thoughts on Trevor left her mind. But she was focused now to find him. Most people would just go to the police when those went missing, but she barely trusted them. Sure there was Lestrade but homicide and killing was his jurisdiction- not missing people. Helena had a thought that Sherlock would tip them to not give her information, then she remembered that nearly anyone in the force isn't fond of Sherlock.

She found herself slow down as she found herself by the museum where she was with Trevor last. The community hasn't seen him, Sherlock won't say anything, and she didn't even know of John knew or if he would tell her. Her phone buzzed, at first she ignored it but it could be Sherlock needing a location. Not to mention with him now in connection with Curtis something might happen.

**Update**

**-MH**

"Arugh!" She groaned and quickly texted back.

**On hold**

**-H**

She reached to put the phone in her pocket but the reply was quick.

**Why?**

**-MH**

**Just because**

**-H**

A few seconds went by, then the phone rang. Helena quickly answered, "Don't ask."

"We have a deal, Helena." Mycroft's voice came through the phone.

She shoved her free hand in her pocket as a cold air blew over. "Yea well, some deals don't fall through. In all honesty nothing new with Sherlock."

"That wasn't hard now." He teased making her growl back. "How's the sight?"

"...Clearly better if I can text." Helena answered bluntly as she shimmied down a ladder down a lower building to get to ground level.

"So, dear brother kept you for it." Mycroft waited for a retort, when none came he continued. "He hasn't responded to much of my texts."

"And that's a concern because..?" Wasn't it usual of him to do? "It's Sherlock, what do you expect?"

Mycroft sighed. "Well, there is information he wanted so."

Her brows creased as she got down to the ground and joined the wandering moving crowds. "Information? Is he on a case?"

"I wouldn't know, would I?" He replied sarcastically. She didn't mind some things of Mycroft but his smart mouth was getting to her as she kept her eyes scanning the crowds.

"Did I ever mention how much of a pain you being vague can be?" She retorted sharply making her way to the fountain. "Besides, I did have to heal from losing my sight."

Mycroft sighed, Helena imitated his known eye rolls guessing he did just that. "Well, you'll be doing extra work for now."

She stopped in place and gave a glare down her phone. "Extra? What- Why?"

"Someone had to take care of those medical bills. Not to mention that time you took off for your injury." Helena spoke no more not thinking of a response to that- he had her. Hearing no response, the man chuckled, "You're welcome." The a click and he hung up.

"...I hate him." She growled gripping her phone tightly and roughly shoving it into her pants pocket. Seeing as she'll have to quit for today, Helena decided to go to Baker Street to see what Sherlock was up to and give a _good_ description for Mycroft.

Deciding to take a stroll on the sidewalk, she stopped at the curb waiting behind a crowd to cross. Maybe roof jumping was better-

"Hey kid!"

Some heads turned including Helena's when they spotted a little girl running into the busy street. People gasped as she managed to avoid a few cars but a double decker bus was heading right her way.

"Stop!"

"Someone get that kid!"

Helena looked around only seeing people stricken with fear or just ignorantly recording this event on their cellphones. "What a great society we live in!" She barked as she bolted after the kid head on. People screamed as the bus driver finally took noticed of the small kid who still didn't stop or look around, he pounded the brakes. People in and on the vehicle jolted and tried to stay in their seats not wanting to get launched to the floor. Tires screeched begging to stop in time as Helena put her speed and reached for the kid, wrapping her arms around the small child and leaping out of the way before the bus to hit either of them. They tumbled across the cobblestone as she stopped against a car in park ignoring the pain in her body from that. Helena didn't care, most importantly was the kid alright?

The double decker screeched to a final stop just past where the kid was. She sat up and picked the kid up by the shoulders getting a good look at this little girl. She looked to have no scratches as her small body, only her hair dirty blonde was just messed up and eyes tightly shut from the event. "Hey, you're alright." Helena softly cooed looking around. "Where's you-"

"There you are!"

The little girl opened her big gray eyes at the sight of a elder like woman running over. Helena guessed she was her mother or grandmother. "How many times do I have to tell you-" The girl went to her side hiding her tears. With a sigh the woman looked to Helena as she stood wiping her pants and sleeves. "Thank you ever so much."

"No trouble at all, no one else did anything." She admitted glaring at the crowds who still filmed the event.

"Say thank you." She told the little girl, though she only hid her face behind the woman's leg.

"I think her breathing is thankful enough." Helena assured and turned making her leave as people watched and others continued their way. Well, it killed her a bit time from going to her destination. Hawk stuck with the roofs and alleyways from then til Baker Street.

The woman too the girls' hand and lead her back home, questioning what possessed her to run out like that. She never answered but looked over to a man dressed in casual wear who just looked off behind his sunglasses. A grin appeared on his face, finding that little game fun and left his own merry way. Another man in the distance grudgingly followed who was keeping watch from a distance for anyone to see. Trevor followed him wincing at the new bruise at his leg trying to keep up with Jim's fast pace.

* * *

Finding herself humming as she found the famous flat, she got down from the building across -now recovered from the explosion weeks ago- and approached the front. Usually she went around and entered Sherlock's bedroom window where a nice cup of tea was there waiting for her. But she wasn't in the mood to do things in his favor; even if she did cuff him at the morgue.

With a sigh, she thought maybe the front door this one time. But the door cracked open hearing voices. Hawkeye got onto the metal fence to her left, leapt up reaching for the grate around the windows and pulled herself up onto the balcony just as the door fully opened with John stepping out. Mrs. Hudson's voice inside could be heard telling him something. He replied and shut the door, then made his way down the street not noticing her one bit.

"..Only John?" She questioned herself standing in front of the window to the sitting room. "Then Sherlock is-"

A knock on the glass made her whip around finding Sherlock Holmes looking at her as if scrutinizing, which she sure he was doing. She waved and in turn he waved back but was more of a sarcastic wave if anything. Feeling awkward up there now, she pointed down to unlock the window for her to enter. She noticed he was dressed so he either planned to go out, had already gone out, or just wanted to be dressed...Which is rare for him. His eyes followed and he tapped his finger on the lock switch as if pretending he didn't know what she wanted. Helena nodded, only for Sherlock to tap his wrist as if 'haven't gotten time to do so', shrugged, and let the curtains fall for her to no longer see inside.

"Don't make me break in and tell Mrs. Hudson you did it!" She barked moving to the other window that had one curtain moved to see. Ignoring her or pretending he didn't hear, Sherlock picked up his violin and started playing a simple tune.

Growling, she looked around spotting a empty plant pot on the neighbors window. A grin splayed on her features; Helena leaned over picking up a good sized one and knocked on the window. Sherlock turned still playing but stopped with a screech of the strings seeing her holding the pot and grinning like a Cheshire cat. She nodded and reeled her arm back prepared to smash it against the windows, only to be stopped when Sherlock dropped his instrument into his chair and rushed over to unlock the window. Gently placing it down as the window was propped open, Helena slipped and and patted his cheek saying, "What a quick change of heart."

Glaring at the back of her head as she made her way in going straight to the kitchen, he closed and locked the window. "Cheeky." He spat to himself.

* * *

**Thanks for all the support and HIGH patience. I see more and more follows everyday and it shocks me how many people like this story! We've been slow with the moving as we got over 10 baskets of clothing and figuring what to keep and what to donate or throw out. Also that time of year to do job searching to only work for 4 months and be broke the other 8 months. It's getting be depressed so trying to keep my mind light in with this story and what I got planned ahead! Thanks for the reviews!**


	19. Chapter 19

"Speaking of change of hearts," Sherlock fixed the curtains and turned to her as she returned with a cookie, she must have smelled the batch Mrs. Hudson brought up that morning. Helena noticed the room was darker then usual but assumed Sherlock was doing an experiment. "what do I owe the pleasure? Come to handcuff me to my chair next?" He asked taking a seat in said chair.

"Nah, that was my revenge so I'm done messing with you." Helena slid into John's chair letting her legs hang over the arm as she leaned her back against the other. "How's Curtis' case going? Oh yea, a bit cold isn't it." Helena teased biting into the cookie.

Sherlock let a sigh out crossing his legs and looking over her. "Well at least it'll match your tea." He raised his brows at her in that smug kind of way.

A smile came. "Ohh, made me tea?" She got up and trotted to the kitchen to indeed find the cold tea. "Extra milk?" She called in question.

"Of course." He called back reaching for his own tea on the side table.

Sherlock's was a bit more fresh and still warm. Hearing her groan at the taste, he watched her take the tea pot and refill it with warmer tea. With a test sip, she found the taste more tolerable and added more milk with a 'stupid body parts' spotting Sherlock's bag of thumbs no doubt.

"A bit bitter." She licked her lips as she took the seat again with another cookie in her hand.

"John got different tea leaves."

"Ah, sure."

The two grew silent as Sherlock watched her and Helena enjoying her cookie and bitter tea. None the less she drank it. Decided to keep the chatter up, Sherlock lowered his cup. "May I ask why you were upon the balcony as you know these windows stay shut when my window and door are valuable options?"

Helena finished her tea and held the cup tucking her legs in under her. She was about to answer when noticing Sherlock gave a look with her shoes on the chair, she looked down and rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You do it all the time."

"It's my furniture." He told thickly folding his fingers together and nodded to the couch. "Feel free to tuck those boots on the couch."

Helena groaned sending a glare, "To answer the question-" and shot up to her feet. She felt a bit of a dizzy spell pressing her palm to her forehead. Sherlock watched closely, not saying a word. If he showed concern she'd be suspicious. Helena shook her head and walked over to the couch- or tried to.

"I-I was.. in the window before I… Thought..." Her vision was becoming blurry with the room spinning. Stumbling over, the tea cup fell from her hand onto the carpet as gravity started to pull her down. Sherlock anticipated this and caught her around the waist picking her up as her conscious drifted off more and more.

"Worked faster than anticipated." He picked her up and placed her on the couch fixing her position to curling up against the armrest. At first he was going to just have her lay down, but her figure would be obvious. One last thing to do, he pulled the hood over her head making sure her face was shrouded enough to be unseen. Perfect.

Just as the front door opened, Sherlock picked the tea cup and placed it in the kitchen and returned to the room retaking his seat and his tea. Someone bounded up the stairs and in came his current client.

"Hope I'm not intruding, Mr. Holmes." Curtis said wearing his school uniform just getting out of school.

"Not at all, I was the one who texted you to arrive." Sherlock placed his empty cup down and offered the empty chair across to him.

Curtis walked over putting his bag down and taking a seat. "So, does this have to do with-"

Sherlock pressed his finger to his lips pausing Curtis' question. Confused by this notion, he nodded to the couch where Curtis followed and gasped seeing Hawkeye asleep, totally not drugged.

"Is that..?"

Sherlock nodded lowering his hand. "Arrived to have a rest- does this when running out all night." His voice was low as if any noise would wake her.

Curtis silently stood, wanting a closer look and maybe see the face of Hawkeye. "Wow, it's really him.. Never thought I'd see him. Especially up close." It was like he was seeing some historical figure. Sherlock didn't understand, some people did the same when meeting him with recent population on John's blog. Annoying.

"He is a hard one to catch, let alone spot." Sherlock waited to see if he would approach but looked stunned just watching the tramp sleep. To think, he was actually looking at his older sister sleep and wouldn't know it. Helena would never forgive Sherlock if she knew, but a risk willing to take. How much more mad can she get at him?

He turned clearing his throat to recover from his staring in shock. "So um, about the case?"

"Ah, yes." Sherlock hopped to his feet and went through the papers on his mantel.

Curtis kept looking to the sleeping 'hero' watching them enjoy the peace of sleep. Even if it was forced upon them. The detective seemed to be taking his time finding the paper he was looking for, only to hear the wood below make a low groan. He turned finding the teen just within reach to Hawkeye. Was he going to lift the hood? Sherlock can't let him see her face.

He moved just a bit closer but Sherlock rushed over grabbing the boy's arm. Curtis jumped being caught who earned a glare from the detective- more like a stern warning look really. "I wouldn't do that."

"..Hnmmng…" Hawk groaned in her sleep and moved a bit. The men froze; no way would she wake up so fast. Did he not put enough in her drink? Sherlock lowered the boy's arm as Hawkeye sat up stretching her arms over her head letting out a large groan. Maybe she was feeling uncomfortable with the position he put her in.

Her arms dropped roughly to her side, head hanging seeming too weak from the drug to fully look up. Curtis looked to Sherlock pleading like, to which he shook his head like telling a son he couldn't take the car. Still holding his arm, the teen made the one hand jester that all he wanted was to thank him. Well, what harm could that be? So long as the two don't see each other it seemed fine, Helena could black back out for all Sherlock knew. Giving a short tight grip as a warning, he let Curtis' arm go and nodded to do what he wished. He mouthed a 'thank you' to the detective and took a deep breath to approached the unknowingly drugged tramp.

"I just-" Sherlock cleared his throat indicating to him to keep his voice low, helping in Helena not to recognize him if she truly was recovering this fast. He complied and lowered his tone. "I wanted to thank you."

Curtis held his hand up wanting to give a handshake, proper boy he was. Helena's sight was a bit blurry but saw what looking a hand. Blinking only made it worse, she rubbed her eye and looked up to see the blurred boy's face. Curtis couldn't see her own from the low hood, but none the less she reached for the hand, with the wrong one. The teen chuckled and switched his hand to give a soft handshake. "It's a true honor to meet you."

Hawkeye nodded and let go falling back onto the couch. Curtis made no move to catch or help him as he guessed he was exhausted. Sherlock gave a silent sigh, and turned the boy around. "It seems I have lost the paper I wanted to show you." He excused about a paper that didn't exist, turning Curtis to the door. "I will text you when you find it, should be getting home before your mother worries. Take care." And with that he shut the door.

Sherlock heard silence at first, then the teen descending down the stairs. He tugged on his blazer and went over to the window seeing him leave down the street a bit bewildered, but seemed content to the time given with Hawkeye. Sherlock didn't expect the time to last too long anyhow.

"Nmm..." Looking over to the slumped over hobo. He walked over checking to see if she was awake; eyes closed, even breathing with some heavy sighing now and again. Helena was back out like a light. With one last action to do, Sherlock leaned over reaching for the blanket draped over the chair left of the couch. He unfolded the unused small fabric and laid it over Helena's curled up frame over the couch. As a left action he removed the hood letting her hair free from underneath seeing her true sleeping face.

Helena sighed out a , "Sure…" and snuggled into the pillow she rested her head on.

The said man let a soft smile appear, and soon returned to his chair with a book waiting for her to wake up. Little did Helena know, Sherlock made a large deduction on her past today. 

* * *

_Cold, hungry, tired, damp, but most of all __**alone**__. He was alone in this dark cold world now- friends abandoned robbed him blind and left him to suffer. So many bills, so many people he had to repay. Would he survive? 'Teen dies homeless at eighteen', that's what they'll say. Question was, would it be starvation or freeze to death would be the cause of it?_

"_Hey, it's a hobo."_

"_Wow, never thought I'd see one exposed like this."_

_He was like a statue to the public, ignored or looked upon like he was from some exhibit on display. The boy would prefer to be ignored then stare down with pity and disgust. He felt like some ugly animal in the wild waiting to be poked or nudged. Sure sitting where the public eye could see him wasn't smart, but he felt unsafe in those dark alleys and underpasses. At least the rain had stopped when the sun went down._

_Never had he thought his life would become this. Graduation seemed like yesterday, accepted into a great college, had friends. All robbed within that one day._

"_Hey, check this out!" Laughed a man sounding much closer than other people were, drunk as well. "L-Look at this shit.." Ugh, cockney too..._

"_Is it real? Poke it?" Another drunk came making the huddled teen hug his cold numb knees tighter. Maybe if he played asleep or dead they'd go fuck off somewhere._

"_With what?" He laughed stumbled a bit. The man looking around and instead nudged the kid with his foot. "Feels real,"_

_The teen grew annoyed and just shoved the foot away. The man almost fell over with his friend catching him and giving a glare. "Oi, it shoved me."_

"_Well shove it back." His friend suggested walking over to kick the kid's back. "Oi, hobo! You shov'n my friend!" He hissed 'garbage' as he chugged his beer bottle._

"_Fuck off…" He mumbled turning away, he could get up and leave but his legs felt too weak to try. The boy just wanted his life back, if too much at least some food to make the pain go away._

_The teen suddenly felt a hard kick hit his back knocking him to the side against the cement. "The fuck you say, you mug!?" Sudden fear raced into his heart hearing the thick stomping towards him. _

_The back of his cold jacket rose him up and the man glared right in his face. Ugh, the smell of alcohol was thick and made it hard to breath- "Urgh!..." Then the punch in his gut made it worse._

_The man's friend laughed when the painful cry let out, "Add a dry slap to the tosser!"_

_Maybe his death would be of fatal wounds instead. Better than starving to death, he figured awaiting the suffering filled end._

"_Oi, what's-" His weight dropped back down hearing faint punching and kicking noises along with grunts of pain. His gut throbbed between the punch and two day hunger- how long could humans go without food?_

_All his brain could muster was that something stopped the oncoming attack- but who would even think to save his sorry ass? With whatever strength he had left, the boy lifted his head looking at a figure in black standing in front of him. Protecting? Where were the drunks?_

"_Wasn't even worth our time, the piss pot." grumbled one helping his friend holding his stomach. The teen spotted them distance making their leave. _

"_Hey," The soft voice of his savior came, kneeling down to him. The hood was removed revealing a beautiful girl, eyes soft and kind of deep brown. What captured his heart more was the smile she gifted to him. "your face is new, what's your name?"_

_Heart caught in his throat, he gulped heavily and tried not to seem like he was staring- though obvious with his jaw gaping like a fish. Name, right! Name, brain work through this beautiful kind woman to at least give a name. "T-Trevor Dalton, ma'am."_

_The girl chuckled and removed her beanie from her head letting the short red auburn hair fall framing to her cheeks. Warmth engulfed his ears and head finding she had placed the hat on his head instead- was she giving this to him? "Name's Hawkeye." She placed her hands over his bare ones rubbing to warm them up. "I'll take care of you."_

* * *

Dream; that's all it ever is now. Dream of then- four years ago when Hawkeye saved his life and became part of it.

But now… Now, he was out of it- for the time being. When would his debt be paid, soon he hoped. Doing the dirty work of Jim was worse than he ever imagined. Not only did he have to go make sure things were in order, but he also had literal _dirty work _of disposing a few loose ends. Most of these were of his clients who failed to withhold their side of the bargain and Jim had them taken care of. Trevor pondered if he was part of that line up, but Jim treated him differently so it gave him slight comfort… _slight_.

Was calling Jim to get her back really worth it? In the end he didn't get her back, instead it took him further away from Hawkeye...and pushing her closer to that detective. What did she even see in him? He was known for being a heartless man with only care in solving cases _if_ they interested him. Just the fact it was his fault she was held in arrest for that banker case, admitted into a hospital, and whenever she's on a case with him she gets hurt!

It's just as Moriarty said; it's all Sherlock Holmes fault, and he must save her from him. 

* * *

"_This is such a pretty sight, I can see why you favor it so."_

"_..Shut up…"_

"_Jumping from roof to roof, climbing the tallest buildings of London, all just to feel as free as a bird."_

"_..Please stop..!"_

_Dark, pitch black darkness. She knew someone was there though; sensing his presence, hearing his voice, feeling his touch. Her own voice was nothing but a whisper, barely able to hear it herself. Mute? Blind? Next was to be Deaf?_

"_I'm truly sorry."_

"_For what?"_

_A hand touched her own, it was cold but soft. She couldn't tell whose it was at first, but a jolt came her to when a gun fired. Sticky, wet and sticky speckled onto her face and the hand fell from her grip. But no matter how wide she made her eyes, blink as many times, the dark black wouldn't leave._

* * *

With a gasp, Helena shot up from the couch falling to the floor in a thud, bringing the thin blanket with her. The sight she thought she lost came back once her eyes opened, she found herself on the floor of the 221b flat. Her mind boggled while her heart tried to escape pounding her chest, her lungs felt empty and shrunk as she tried to even her breathing.

"Helena?" John came in from the kitchen seeing her on the floor, "You alright?" He came over helping her up, she was still in a daze.

"H-How..?" Her eyes scanned around, it had to have been a few hours? When did she even get there, or fell asleep? She only has slept here when she pulled all nighters through London and it was dark now. Nine, eight pm maybe?

John gave a concerned look, "Have a bad dream? You're breathing is heavy, and you're got a sweat. You okay?"

Nightmare.

That's all it was, a nightmare.

Accepting that, Helena sighed heavily and let herself stand nodding John a thanks. "Yea, yea, just.. A bad dream. Nothing new." She sighed again, Sherlock was here right? Her mind clearing, the homeless swore remembering she talked to Sherlock before.. falling asleep.

"Where's Sherlock?"

"Kitchen." Called the said man. John moved for Helena to stumble by and find the man- of course, at his microscope. He looked up at her… was that innocence in his eyes.

Sudden anger surged through her, she remembered. The tea, the taste, the sudden dizziness, and blacking out. Looking around as John came behind, she found a long narrow glass test tube… Worth it. She grabbed it and just as she swung it in the air ready to hit Sherlock, "Hey, Helena!" John jumped in and took her wrist.

"Helena! Stop- put it down!" He told trying to free her grip. Although emotions ran through the two, Sherlock was all calm, keeping his eyes steady with her glare.

"I understand your anger, but if you must smash something of mine, do it anywhere but over my head." He turned back down to his microscope.

"Sherlock, what did you do this time?" John questioned keeping a strong hold on Helena, still trying to bring pain to the detective. He finally got the glass out of her hand and let her go. She huffed fixing her jacket. Not trusting to put it down, John kept hold. "Now- What the hell is going on. Are you still mad at him about the gun shop or did he do something else?"

"Take a bloody guess!" She barked and pointed a finger at him. "This damn prat drugged my tea!"

John blinked, looked between her and Sherlock. "He.. what? Sherlock?"

She nodded now jabbing his arm with her finger. "He. Drugged. My. Tea. Is that hard to understand!?"

Sherlock annoyed by the jabs, took her wrist in place. "I was testing it for a case I'm on."

Helena yanked it back and smacked the hand away, hard. "You could've asked, jackass! Are you just trying to make me hate you again, because it's working!"

John groaned to himself, "Can't leave these two for a minute.." He mumbled.

"You would've denied it, for sure." Sherlock countered.

"How would you know?" She folded her arms wanting to just smack him around so badly. He raised a finger to retort- "And don't you dare answer as if you know me, you don't." But lowered his hand at that, losing patience from her accusations. "I could care less what your experiments are, but asking is so much nicer. Is it really that hard to ask a favor?"

Sherlock stood glaring back. "I know you more than you think, Hawkeye."

"You wish you knew more about me, Holmes."

"Alright!" The two looked at John now putting his arms between the two in case a cat fight happened. He sighed and looked at both of them, it was like they were his kids sometimes. "Is there some tension between you two, or do you enjoy this?"

The two looked at each other, before giving each other a small glare then looked to John. "He starts them.." Helena spoke.

"That's true," Sherlock now glared John as if he favored Helena now. "and as much as you want to hit him -which I know the feeling- you can't keep hitting him then running off."

Helena's jaw dropped, she was not the trouble one! "But he-"

"Ah!" John held a hand up giving a look. "I know this may be hard for you two, but ever thought of _talking _things out?" The two scoffed at this. "Now, hear me out. I know you two aren't… normal. But, maybe you both can do this one thing? Because I don't know how much I can handle these childish fights anymore. I just can not trust you two alone."

Helena did feel a bit bad, John seemed stressed over their fighting as of late. What did happen lately? The two got along fine with some smart remarks and little spats, but never enough that they don't talk to each other or even say mean things.

Sherlock was harder to admit his wrongs, or even at all. Hell he didn't even like giving others the satisfaction of being right. John knew this and seeing Helena's guilt he gave said man a look to try and reason. He looked to Helena, maybe he wasn't the only one suffering between them. He had said mean stuff to her, and she got her revenge -even if the cuffs were over the top- the true he felt was tricking his emotions. That's what he was truly upset about. Bring it up, like he'd ever admit he even had them. He was a Sociopath after all.

"Please? If not for one of you, at least for me?" John pleaded, who seemed desperate to stop this all.

Helena sighed and looked up to him. He looked down to her, both feeling awkward. Would he actually apologize for his words? He never has to anyone, only when he hasn't mean it; all the time.

No, he has before.. to Helena. Now looking back, he indeed apologized.

_"I'm.. sorry." He said softly, earning her eyes to find his. "I'm sorry for putting you through this. I never intended this to happen, I want you to understand this."_

So why would it be harder this time. Maybe because it was a petty fight? Maybe because he knew he was in the wrong and pride kept it down. Either way-

"Sherlock?"

John turned to the kitchen entrance, Mrs. Hudson was standing by a distressed woman who looked to have rushed out of their home to here. Sherlock looked the woman over, he instantly knew who it was and looked to Helena. She was about to turn when Sherlock reached for her arm to stop her, she looked to him in question.

"C-Can you please help, Mr. Holmes?" Mrs. Hudson had a face of concern as the woman held a handkerchief to her chin in case tears dared escaped.

John approached her, unknown to who she was. "Of course, what's the problem?" He asked ready to comfort her.

"It's-"

"You're son never made it home, did he?" Sherlock asked, Helena looked at him in question. Son? Did this mother lose her son, if so why did Sher- Oh god..

"Curtis, my son! Curtis is missing!" 

* * *

**Thank you Alice-Hatter, Romantic Journalist, secretlyemi, klockworkmirrorecho, RiverSong98, MuiL0VR, TheDoctorsTrueCompanion, Unstoppably-demonic, Mae Ride, for the favorites and follows for the story!**

**Fangirling007- Yes! I can't wait to see it next year! A lot of Marvel fans are angry that he got it saying he's too ugly or shit. He's perfect for the part! As a Marvel fan myself, this film is a must see! Thanks for loving the story! (got this in an email back in ch. 10)**

**Valandriel- Thanks for your constant encouragement and the offer. That's mighty sweet of you, thank you. I take my deep time to make sure it's understandable, I don't have an official beta reader and not many of my friends are as big of a Sherlockian as me, but they help none the less.**

**Mercenary2.0- I'll try my best! Thanks for loving the story and sticking around!**

**September has finally rolled in and we're waiting for it to get cool. So far we had two cold days to that I even needed my comforter blanket the other night. But I had a cute dream about Sherlock so worth it! Sorry if this seems rushed, I gotta a lot of work at home. ^^;;  
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	20. Chapter 20

"Curtis, my son! Curtis is missing!"

No, oh God no, anything- _anything _but this! Helena felt her heart drop to her stomach hearing those words; those exact words cry from her mother's mouth. If she turned to approach on this, would she even recognize her? It had been years, her appearance didn't change much since she was fifteen- now twenty-seven. Sherlock kept his hold on her, obviously not wanting any dispute of this current matter. They needed answers.

"Please, take a seat Mrs..?"

"Shaw, Eileen Shaw." She sniffled as she was lead to sit in John's chair by Mrs. Hudson.

He frowned in confusion, following. Curtis said another name. "Shaw, but wasn't it-"

"Fake." Sherlock told, letting Helena go and join them the living room. Helena went rigid with the words of her brother's disappearance running through her mind. The detective stood before the mother as Mrs. Hudson left to get her a glass of water.

"H-How did you know his name?" The mother asked as John took the chair from the dining table and sat down.

Sherlock looked to the frozen Helena. There was no use in keeping it a secret. "He came to me in search of someone." Helena turned at that, her mother's back to her; unknown of her daughter here.

"Searching? Is a friend of his gone or of some sort?" She asked, confused.

Sherlock took a seat in his chair and gave the mother a look. "Come now, lying to a detective will get you nowhere." John looked to him, knowing how Sherlock can be with emotional people.

Eileen blinked, looking offended. "Mr. Holmes-"

"The picture in the frame in your home is missing, your son has been coming home later than usual, and instead of going to police you come to me. Sure there's the blog but you're not a tech person, you found the card I put in his pocket with my phone number and name on it. You then searched my name and found my address and came here. You, Miss Eileen, are here not only because your son is missing, but why he has come to me. And you know why." He explained quickly pressing his hands together to his chin. "Am I wrong?"

The mother hid her mouth with the handkerchief, glaring at the detective. Helena herself couldn't tell if she wanted to be happy or mad at Sherlock's accusations. Mrs. Hudson soon returned handing the glass of water to her. She thanked her and took the glass, sipping it. "Mr. Holmes, I can't deny you are right." Eyes more dry, she kept her look solemn. "Once I found the picture gone I knew Curtis was up to something. He shouldn't have delved into it, I shouldn't have just cut the photo."

"Why? Why would you cut out the photo of your own daughter?" John asked folding his arms with a creased brow. He was starting to feel a it less compassion, now remembering this woman threw Helena out as a teen.

She turned to him. "Curtis doesn't know, but she is the reason my husband is dead." She said now with anger gripping the handkerchief tightly. "My son should not know someone who caused his father his death. Now he's gone, out to search for her for all we know! She could have killed him by now!"

"I suggest you lower your tone." Sherlock glanced at Helena, who didn't move but now glared the woman she once called mother.

"You're telling me to shush when you should be out finding my Curtis!" Eileen accused getting to her feet.

Mrs. Hudson was a bit shocked how calm Sherlock was with this woman. She approached Helena whispering something to her. She nodded and the landlady made her way downstairs not wanting to get too involved. More or less seeing if Helena was alright as she looked to possibly not be breathing.

John bit his lip; feeling aggression with Sherlock. "Miss Shaw unless you want our help, I suggest you withdraw your earlier statement to your daughter." Even John was agreeing with Sherlock.

"Can't argue with my blogger there." Sherlock agreed getting to his feet fixing his blazer.

She looked at the two of them in shock- where'd all that sympathy for her go to? All because the words she said about her once had daughter. "Why do you care what I said about the twat!?"

"Because this _twat _is your only chance in finding my brother."

John hadn't expected that. Sherlock walked past her to join Helena as she entered the room glaring the woman. She just barely knew that voice, but it couldn't be. Twelve years and she was alive? The woman slowly turned and when her eyes spotted that auburn hair, the handkerchief fell from her hand, breath caught in her throat, and skin paled. It was like seeing a ghost- and that was not a reaction that shocked Helena.

"In case your simple mind hasn't also realized this, Helena is the 'Hawkeye' of London. Helping those homeless people that she joined all those years ago after you disowned her in hopes she'd die in the streets. The one person who actually kept Curtis safe all these years while you kept her true origins in the dark because of your hatred." Sherlock spat.

John felt awkward being over on the other side of the room, so he scurried over to join his flatmate and Hawk. The woman noticed how Helena was actually being defended. Imagine what the family would say to this! "And yet look- he's gone missing because she didn't do good enough."

"How long are you going to keep this up?" John asked standing by Helena's other side. "Sherlock, let's just find Curtis for Helena's sake, we can go now." He suggested getting his jacket from his chair.

"We need a clue of where he's gone to, John. If not, kidnapped." Sherlock told pausing John's actions.

"Who would be after him?" Helena asked him in a milder tone than to Eileen. "Someone trying to get to you?"

"No." Sherlock answered steepling his hands to his chin. "Was there any evidence that he was taken at home or never arrived?"

"He must have been home, his school stuff was there but his mobile phone was left in the kitchen." She answered, going into her purse and taking the device out.

Sherlock took it and turned it on, one text message. "The thought of reading it didn't occur to you?" He asked, not surprised how 'slow' this woman was. Then again she didn't seem to even take notice of his bully issue at all.

"Invading my son's privacy?" She questioned hand to her chest at the thought. Sherlock gave a roll of his eyes, but reading the text made him glare the words. He leaned the phone towards Helena so she could read.

**Let's play a game**

**-JM**

That rigid feeling returned, and she nearly lost her balance at this one. John stood by arms around her. "Helena? What's wrong?"

No... Him? Again? Why is he back? Didn't he play his game enough and was done with them? But, if Sherlock said is true, why would Jim be involved? ...Was Jim trying to get to her?

"H-Helena? Helena breathe." The doctor instructed upon seeing her freeze; she tried to take easy breaths at his instructions.

"What's going on? What's on his phone?" Eileen asked as Sherlock moved past her to get his coat and scarf.

"Thought you didn't invade his privacy." He retorted, tying the scarf around his neck and sending a glare. "John, help Helena down to Mrs. Hudson."

They both looked up at that after he got her to breath again. "You better not be implying-"

"I am." He threw his coat on as she marched up to him.

"He is my brother. You can't get around this city without me, Sherlock." Her voice shook as she said this. Detective gave her a deliberate look- a look she's seen but was never given. Her gaze shook. "..You agree with her."

His brows went low, "No." Breaking eye contact he went into the desk drawer getting John's gun, pocketing it for Mrs. Shaw not to see. "He's clearly targeting you. You'd be safer here. Mrs. Hudson!" He called.

"But Curtis-"

"Your fault again. Typical." Eileen ridiculed glaring the back of Helena's head.

Helena's hands curled into fists; she just wanted to knock her lights out. "You're seriously leaving me here with her while my brother is in the hands of a lunatic?"

Sherlock said no words for he knew the reason why, but couldn't muster out the words. If what Jim Moriarty said was true..

"_I'll burn the __**heart **__out of you."_

"Come John," He called leaving to the stairs as Mrs. Hudson was making her way up.

"Sherlock!" Helena bellowed but he made no response. She growled in anger and threw her hood up in anger keeping her distance from Eileen who retook her seat in John's chair.

"Oh dear, is everything alright?" She asked hearing the yelling from below and seeing the faces the ladies had.

"Helena's brother needs help." John explained going over to her. "Mind keeping to these two while we get him?"

"Oh, of course John. Hurry off now." She patted his arm and he made his way after Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson looked between the distant daughter and mother glaring one another. Awkwardly she announced, "I'll make some tea." and left to the kitchen.

Helena wandered to the window, she spotted below the boys hailing a cab. Sherlock looked up seeing her silhouette. Without suggestions, mouthing, or even any movement; in his eyes she saw how he would save Curtis from any harm. She softly smiled pressing her palm on the glass, her trust was with him and the smile was proof. John managed to get a cab and the men climbed in, the car sped off to where Helena guessed Scotland Yard to inform Lestrade. It's true it never said 'do not involve the police' so he must be getting him to get officers to search for him.

Her eyes went over to Eileen, seeing her now looking through her purse almost to try and keep herself busy. Sherlock never asked many questions out in a rush, understandable. But usually Sherlock wanted details before taking action, seeing the text must have jolted him as well.

"What time did you arrive home?"

Eileen glared at her once was daughter, "Excuse me?"

Helena sighed, she would had to withhold as much as her instinct to retort as possible. "What time did you get home?" She huffed, making Helena step over some books to stand by her. "Sherlock needs to know how long he might have been gone. He always needs information, I'll text it to him with every information you give me."

Seeing her not going to involve herself, she turned to Helena. "I arrived home around five p.m. to make a rushed dinner. His phone and school bag was left in his room so I assumed he had gone to a friends house or hang out, with it being the weekend." She explained.

Helena crossed her arms, "No evidence of forced entry? No sign of a struggle?"

"The door was locked as always, and everything was the same as I left this morning."

"He must have been ordered by whoever of Jim's men or followed him after to the house. Curtis wouldn't be the time to fight back-"

"Don't speak as if you know him." Eileen suddenly flared up getting to her feet.

Helena glared back rolling her knuckles to her chin. "Be lucky that was me you cut off and not Sherlock." She hissed and turned away, Mrs. Hudson returned with a tray of tea cups and a pot of said tea.

"Here we are." She handed a tea cup to Mrs. Shaw and took her own.

"Thank you," She smiled sweetly to the landlady. Helena's was left, but there in case she wanted it.

Mrs. Hudson took Sherlock's seat across from Eileen and talked to keep her calm, which was surprisingly easy. Did she not give that much of a damn or didn't realize the true danger Curtis really was in? It made more sense that way, could also be that Helen was here and not out there helping Sherlock and John.

She took her phone out ready to text the information to Sherlock, but it buzzed just as she turned the screen on. A new message. Maybe from Sherlock, she hoped.

**Kings Cross**

**Come play**

**Or else**

**Curtis will stay**

**-JM**

That bastard! Of course he wants her there, but it's not like she can ignore it. Weather Sherlock wants her to stay, she had to get Curtis.

Kings Cross; Helena mapped out her mind starting where her current location was, then to Kings Cross. Down the street- it was just around the corner and down the street from her. Nine minutes by car, seventeen by foot, Helena would be sure the make in five minutes. Looking over her shoulder, Helena noticed the two women talking and bemused. Quietly, she made her way into the kitchen and slipped down the hall into Sherlock's door. Please don't squeak…. Oh good. The door opened with silence, she rushed to the window unlocked it and jumped right out as soon as she opened it.

* * *

Sherlock and John had just climbed into the cab as it made its leave from the flat. Sherlock stared at the phone, John looked over to him. Seeing the man star at the phone in silence, he asked, "Do you know where Curtis could be?"

"Getting to that. Look at this, John." Sherlock handed the mobile to him, he reread the same message.

"I saw it," He told looking to him confused, "I-I don't understand."

"Scroll down."

John looked back to the screen and scrolled down- the messaged was extended more.

**Long live the queen!**

**Evil shall be cleansed by holy blessing.**

**Stars among the waves shine on Her Majesty**

**Be Courteous.**

**Even the youngest hawk must bow down,**

**Before given permission**

**To spread their wings and fly.**

John seemed more confused, why couldn't Sherlock just tell him? "Explain?" He asked.

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. People are just so- "Look at the first sentence."

He did so, then something did click. "Long live the Queen. Tha-that's wrong, it's long live-"

"The King. First clue to our location of Curtis." Sherlock took his little notepad out and wrote down King.

"Evil shall be cleansed by the holy spirit." John thought for a moment on things related to said religious term. "Church?"

"No, cleansed so it's not a location name." Sherlock corrected tapping the pen to his chin.

The doctor thought, the two men weren't that religious in general. Mostly Sherlock as he believed in Science. "Bible..wait, a crucifix?"

Sherlock nodded, "But with the term cross." He wrote cross down, then added an s at the end of King. "Kings Cross."

"Kings Cross, that's only a few minutes from the flat." John inquired.

Sherlock thought on the third one, stars among the waves. "Lighthouse." He figured out.

John frowned. "But, Kings Cross is on the street, where does a lighthouse comes from?"

He turned to him. "The lighthouse on that street, it's on top of a building in Kings Cross. Kings Cross, Lighthouse." John leaned over to tell the cab driver different directions, but Sherlock pulled him back. "We need Lestrade, never said we couldn't contact police so let's take the advantage."

John understood, they were halfway there already. He looked down at the phone scrolling to see the second part. "Be court- Curtis." John figured as Sherlock had written it down already. "Even the youngest hawk must bow down, before given permission to spread their wings and fly." John was a tad off on this one, he turned to Sherlock for an explanation.

"Helena always refers to herself as Hawkeye, she is known as that through the city and streets. As a sick joke, they refer to Curtis as a young hawk being her little brother." He explained scribbling onto his pad.

"But, the spread his wings bit. What's that part meant for?" John asked, Sherlock looked to him.

"What do birds do when they leave the nest, John?" He asked and showed his note pad.

John read it, but felt his heart race a bit. "Oh, God.."

Kings Cross, Lighthouse

Curtis will drop

Sherlock ordered the driver to speed up, it was an emergency to the police. The cabby drove as fast as he could without getting himself into an accident with the other cars around. In a way Sherlock felt bringing Helena would get him a faster route, but the second the cab would pause she'd fly out of the cab before they could blink. Though a heavy feeling in his gut told him that Helena wasn't going to be staying out of this.

* * *

Helena leapt over the buildings and made her way as fast as her legs could carry to Kings Cross. It had been five minutes and she was halfway there. Most of the buildings were too far to jump which slowed her down. She knew she'd have to get down to the streets, with it being night she had no worry of traffic or people in her way.

Finding a fire escape, she made her way down to the street and continued her running. Seven minutes, she counted, it was starting to take her longer than intended. Taking a sharp turn almost knocking a innocent late night walker to the pavement, she saw the building up ahead. Her legs swung faster feeling the bottom of her shoes beat against the cement, her breathing was rapid trying to keep it even and get enough air in her lungs. Closer. Closer.

Stopping in front of the building,, she bent over to catch her breath. That was a long wrong but made it in seven in a half minutes instead of seventeen. Throwing her head back, her dark eyes looking up upon the lighthouse above the building. It was pitch black up there, unable to see anything. Helena knew the structure and would have to guess where to start climbing with the doors boarded and shutters locked.

Suddenly the sound of loud of a machine turning up, her head zipped around finding lights hitting a figure up on the lighthouse structure..dangling. Her eyes widened in fear, "Curtis!" she instinctively screamed in horror.

The teen was tied or cuffed to the bar beneath the grate of the lighthouse. Helena stepped back to try and see if he was indeed dangling or managed to reach the ground roof. Her hands knotted into her hair gripping tightly, repeating 'Oh God' over and over again. She just _had_ get up there. The structure was built too difficult for her to go straight up, with gaps and large spaces between ledges. A start; Helena had to find a start through this maze.

"Come on, Helena." She told herself going over to one of the shutter boxes. "You can do this." Helena stepped back, took a few more into the street, then made a running start and once she made it to the grate she ran up against the metal thing and leapt up grabbing the edge of the box. But the second she brought her weight up to it, the sound of something made her freeze… Was that groaning from the metal bolting?

"..Woah!"Without a warning, her weight dropped onto the pavement taking the box with her landing on her chest. "..S-Shit.." She groaned tossing the stupid thing off her with a rage of pain running up her spine.

Sounds of sirens pierced her ears. Police? Taking a sharp intake of breath as she sat up, Helena saw rapid lights blinking and sirens ringing up the street. Two or three cars came to a screeching halt as she tried to get herself to her feet. Car doors swung open and arms came up behind her to assist, looking over her shoulder assuming to be the detective she instead saw the D.I.

"Lestrade?" He got her to her feet and kept a hand on her back, he had seen the fall and hoped she was alright. "How'd you know-"

"Who else would manage to get me out of my office to such a scene?" He looked over, Helena followed his gaze seeing Sherlock and John leave from the car he came in making a fast pace to her.

"Dear God, Helena. You alright?" The medical man asked seeing the fall as well. He glanced to Sherlock, the shocked concern look he had in the car was gone by now. John thought Sherlock would leap from the car seeing her back make connection to the cement.

"F-Fine. I'm not the concern here." She looked up with the men followed and two of the threes stomachs dropped finding the teen up above. John mumbled 'Christ..' as Lestrade was just slack jawed.

Lestrade instantly turned to one of the officers. "Call the fire department, get a ladder in here."

"No, cancel that call." Sherlock ordered looking to him.

The D.I. looked to him dumbfounded. "Are you insane, we need a ladder to get that boy down, Sherlock!"

Sherlock stepped up to him not even affected by his yelling. "Helena must be the one to get him. We don't know anyone else is up there that could push him off or cut whatever is keeping him up there."

Greg groaned to himself circling shortly, he just hated these things. It was the bomber case all over again. He turned to her as John tried to get her to admit her back was hurt from the fall. "Can you get to him?"

Helena looked up and over her obstacles again, chewing her lip she unzipped her jacket and tossed it to the ground. Thankfully she had a shirt on this time, compared to when Sherlock saw she revealed to wear a bra under the hoodie. Her eyes shot to him, "Give me a boost."

Without hesitation he agreed and followed her to the next shutter box she deemed more stable. Lestrade went to an officer, "Call in for a safety airbag." The officer nodded and made his way to his car to contact for one.

Soon the sounds of the sirens were loud enough that the teen was awaking from his once was forced unconscious state. Colder than usual, his mind focused on the sound of voices, screech of a siren now and then- sounded like a police or ambulance siren. At first his sight was all blurs and the flashing lights of blue weren't helping. Wind blew through his disheveled hair, throwing his head about to get it out of his eyes, he suddenly felt his arms were in bond above his head.

"O-Ow.. what the!?" The sirens beeping came about, looking down sudden regret grew in him. High, he was really high. Why was he up above the ground so high? Cops and people everywhere as people started to arrive hearing and seeing the scene. Mouth went dry as he closed his eyes tightly, "I'm only dreaming. Just a dream. One of those falling dreams, yea." he nodded. "I'll fall any second now and wake up in my room."

The teen started struggling when the sound of a voice echoed out to him through a megaphone. "Curtis!" He froze but refused to look down again. "Don't move or struggle, you will be brought to down to safety."

Curtis took a look once more but only to close his eyes wishing to wake up now. "Curtis, don't be scared!" Damn his curiosity at the new voice! Taking one more peek, he saw a figure scaling up the building.

"Hawkeye!" He called out shocked they were the one coming up to get him.

Though Hawkeye struggled, as they grew closer Curtis saw the jacket was off and the pale white skin was shone. Small arms but built well. Foot slipped making her almost fall, the people below gasped. Sherlock took a step forward in case she fell, once her footing was fixed she made a more careful climb to the second window sil. Red hair shined in the lights, her eyes shot up making eye contact with her brother.

Something went through her mind as she got closer, getting onto the ledge above the second window. The body; he noticed the chest was larger and came to a mind blowing conclusion Hawkeye was a female! Seems the rumors at school about he being a she were true. Though the blog John Watson wrote her as a male made it confusing.

"Almost there, don't be scared." She assured as she measured herself up to the final ledge. "Keep watching me, don't look anywhere else." He nodded keeping her eyes on her.

One long leap and she just managed to grip it. With a struggle, Helena pulled herself up and looked down. Lestrade was helping the officers to where to move the cars so the safety airbag could be put. Sherlock and John moved but kept eyes up, her eyes met his then moved up to Curtis. Her eyes went wide, "NOO!" someone cut whatever kept him up and safe making his body drop.

"Ahhh!" He screamed, not a dream. This was real!

Everyone's heart froze, everything felt like it was all in slow motion. In a last ditch effort, Helena extended her arm out just about making it grabbing his write. Though gravity didn't help and yanked her down only letting her other hand take the ledge as her string of life for her and Curtis both.

"Jesus!" John yelled hands up in his air seeing the two now dangling. "Oh, fu..." Sherlock looked over, the airbag wasn't fully blown yet, he almost wanted to climb up there but he'd never make like she did.

"Hurry up!" Sherlock barked at the officers blowing the airbag up. His eyes shot up seeing Curtis holding Helena's arm tightly.

"We can't make it go any faster!" Lestrade barked back.

"Don't let go! You hear me!?" She ordered him, he nodded complying with as much grip as he had on her arm.

Her fingers curled against the ledge, but her palms grew sweaty much to her disdain. "Look out!" He yelled looking up past her.

Helena looked up expecting Jim Moriarty to be shoving her off or tease her. But no, no it was someone she thought she'd never see in this situation.

The face, dark and hair loose all over. With an extended hand out for her to reach out of choice, Helena was either horrified or stupefied to see Trevor hovering over to help her.

"..T-Trevor.." She stuttered keeping her hands tightly gripped. Something different; something wrong in his eyes. Proven right, a smile creeped in on his face as he motioned his hand to her.

"Hawkeye, grab on. I'll save you." He told her in a tone she had never heard him with before.

A vibe, an eerie one emanated from him as he smiled down from her. His voice wasn't soothing, it made her skin crawl. The same whisper inflection Moriarty gave her when in that pool area. Her eyes closed tightly shaking her head.

"I-I can't, my hands." She told feeling Curtis fix his grip, Helena expected her joints to dislocate any second. "He's-"

"Let him go."

Her brown eyes shot open at him. What did he just say? Let him go? Her own brother!? She climbed up here to get him, why let him go. Her eyes looked down seeing the airbag not yet full but close to it.

Eyes burned back at him. "Why should I let him go!? I can't!"

"Yes you can, Hawk."

"No I can't! I won't!" Something then clicked in her mind. "Why are you up there, did you cut..the binds?"

Trevor reached further for her arm grabbing her arm. This was him, not the Trevor she knew. He was fearful of doing something like this and even hated being on top of buildings. Why? Why? _Why!? _"Let go of me." She hissed at him with a fixed glare.

"Just drop him, Hawk. It's easy, he's not like us." He told with ease. She wanted to swat him away or hit him but with both hands busy she couldn't risk her or his life for it.

His eyes pierced into her own, his face grew close to her ears. Words muttered out making the hair on her neck stand. Her voice strained to respond to his words. People seemed to notice whatever was happening, Helena wasn't in the right mind.

Down below, John and Sherlock saw who it was. Only Sherlock knew who it was, John assuming to be one of Moriarty's goons. May as well be. "What's going on. Sherlock, what's happening?" He asked hastily seeing her froze. "What did he say?"

Sherlock's teeth gritted, was he going to push her? No, his hand was on her arm, the arm keeping Curtis from falling. Trevor wanted her brother to fall, not Helena. "Sherlock!" He looked over to Lestrade, seeing the airbag was fully inflated.

Making haste, he ran to the megaphone to the car. "Helena, drop Curtis." Her eyes closed, he repeated. "Drop Curtis. It's safe now, you can drop him." Looking down she saw Sherlock nod.

Helena looked to Curtis who was hiding his face into her arm, the joints weren't going to last much longer. "Curtis, can you grab my waist?" He didn't respond, with a grunt she moved her arm to get his attention. "Hug my waist and jump into the airbag. Understand?"

His eyes screamed fear, "I-I can't. I'll fall and die.. I can't believe I even hold on this long!"

She winced and peaked at Curtis who still stared down at her. "I know you can do it, if I climbed up here then you can make this jump." Her eyes shined as she smiled. "Do your sister proud."

Without a second thought or a chance for him to respond, she swung her arm towards the direction of the large blue safety pit and let go. He lost the grip and felt himself grow further as he fell with a large scream to be muffled into the bag landing on his back. Police rushed to see if he was alright and get him off for Helena to jump. Though her eyes kept on him seeing him in the arms of the police, they returned to Trevor who let her arm go. Still the smile on his face as he held the hand out again. Did he seriously expect her to just accept and go with him? Her eyes now cold stone, she asked one question.

"Why?" His smile faltered a bit. "Why are you doing this? Why are you siding with him. Him of all people!?"

Trevor looked to find an answer, mouth gaping a bit fishing about what to say. But chances grew slim when Helena's hand grip started to slip. She yelped, bringing the attention back to her current chance of death.

"Hawkeye, please grab me hand. If you don't you, you'll fall!" He pleaded and took her wrist.

In reaction to it, her now free hand slapped his, he let go finding the glare. The glare she never sent to him, only to those she truly and utterly hated. Those who scorned her and hurt those she cared for. So what to him? Didn't he care for her? Somehow in his mind, he couldn't understand the concept that he almost got her brother killed.

"I rather die than go with you.." At those words, Helena's feet pressed against the wall and launched herself a good distance from Trevor to reach her as she made her descent below.

"Hawkeye!" He cried seeing her accept her choice growing close to the ground. Voices of her name 'Helena' cried from John and Greg below.

Helena knew by her launching and where she would be falling, the airbag wouldn't be catching her. Calculating her fall, she'd either hit the pavement or one of the cars. Eyes closed, her arms to her chest, Helena awaiting her dark fate to impact her.

"Helena!" Screamed Sherlock as the weight of her slammed into him and Lestrade knocking them to the ground harshly.

Had she survived? Impossible! Her eyes opened finding the two men holding her against them with John keeping them from slamming hard onto the road. Groaning and grunting came from the men she was currently on top of keeping her from her death. While Lestrade was trying to have the air return to his lungs, Sherlock kept his face stiff ignoring the pain in his torso from the crash of her body hitting his. Thought it his Lestrade more as John tried to help him breathe.

"..Lena?" He muttered to her, feeling her not move. Sherlock sat up moving her to his lap seeing her sit up a bit against her. Surely she was trying to figure out what had just happened, her eyes possibly fooling her.

"Is she alright?" John asked kneeling down to the two.

Sherlock moved her arm to have her face him, then found her eyes were closed tightly. She was breathing so he was thankful of that, still conscious. He nodded and John helped him up, she stood with just her eyes closed comprehending to being alive. "Helena?"

Her eyes opened and looked up to Sherlock. Without warning she wrapped her arms around him tightly not planning to unlatch herself anytime soon. With his arms up, he looked to John for help only to earn a exhaling chuckle. With a gulp he laid his hands on her arms and gently pulled her arms off him seeing her eyes threaten to put tears. Oh, she was not in the corrected emotional state he needed her in. Sure he himself nearly had a heart attack from her jump but his eyes were dry. Then again it wasn't him jumping from the top of the building to possible death.

"It's over, it's all over." He assured as his bare hand reached up moving the bangs from falling over her eyes seeing the big brown eyes. She nodded and wiped her eyes, accepting his words as comfort.

"H-Helena?" The two looked over seeing a shaken Curtis now with a shock blanket as an ambulance made its way here just as Helena made her jump. "Hawkeye is.. Helena?" His eyes looked between the auburned girl and dark curled detective. "My...my.. my sister?" Before a answer or explanation could be given, the boy fainted right on the spot.

Helena rushed out of Sherlock's arms to check as a nearby EMT caught sight. Maybe it wasn't _all_ over, Sherlock thought.

* * *

**Thank you culdrencakeaddiction, clairecat1994, Spring Frost, KrAzY-LiTtLe-ImP, EmiliaElle, for the favorites and follows for the story!**

**I just realized it's been nearly a whole year since I started this. Well, hope you all are enjoying the story! Also in case anyone wonders, I read back when I ever used the term Cell instead of Mobile for their phones. I honestly was going to correct it, but it's a difference between American and British term. Helena hangs around Ferry who is an American so she knows the terms and uses them by accident…. Yea let's go with that. Remember to leave a review!**

**Also thanks to my bestie internet friend, Korea Butt AKA Alice for helping me with the riddles and codes. We pondered on this for like a few on and off days. She helped me with it and came up with the whole thing. Credit to her!**


	21. Chapter 21

A week has passed since Curtis was kidnapped and from what his memory tells him, discovered who his sister was. You'd think he'd be with her, catching up and ask where she went to. But for now he was at home resting from the 'traumatic' event. Sure it was to him, but he had gotten over it and just wanted to talk to Hawk- to Helena now. His mother had near wailed glad he was but wanted him to stay overnight in the hospital. No injuries were made as he didn't even remember getting hurt, but remembered how he was taken. Curtis explained to Sherlock at the hospital, that the man named Trevor informed that his friend Lotte was being harassed by his bullies. Naturally -and stupidly Sherlock added- he complied, but only remembered going to his room to leave his stuff and blacked out when something pinched his neck. Sherlock determined with a drug in him that he had a needle injected to his neck, typical trick, not impressed.

Once Curtis' story was explained for Sherlock and John, he asked where Helena was as she wasn't with them. He expected her to be there, John assured she's concerned but currently keeping a distance for his safety. She takes the blame for this whole incident, and even if she could his mother wouldn't want her near the building. The men didn't blame her, as Sherlock had wanted to tell her Trevor was with Moriarty. But never found exactly how to break the news of this to her, knowing she wouldn't believe him. When Curtis was in the ambulance to the hospital, Helena told Sherlock what Trevor was said.

"Jim can help us, leave Sherlock."

The detective knew where Moriarty was taking this with Trevor. He gets Helena and Sherlock loses her. Anger built in his stomach when he heard her tell him that; burn the heart. One he doesn't have but these words he wanted to keep Helena near. Although that became impossible now as when he turned back to her, she was gone from his side.

At the Shaw household, Curtis was in his room and hadn't left or even begin to think how to approach his mother. He felt lied to, and needed to know why Helena was gone and not in their lives. The teen asked Sherlock but he said it was his mother he should ask for this information. He couldn't even respond to her when he came down for food or watch television and she greeted him. He didn't want to concern her, but the fact she didn't pester him like usual was what made him suspicious that she was hiding something. So, he decided today he would 'demand' an explanation.

"Curtis! Dinner's ready!" His mother called from downstairs.

He exhaled and looked into his mirror. "You can do this, just ask 'who is Helena'." He told himself and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen.

The beginning of the meal was silent, Curtis barely touching his food mentally yelling at himself to say it. His mother took notice of this, and cleared her throat. "So, tomorrow will you be alright going back to school?" She asked cutting into her meat.

He nodded.

"I understand what happened was traumatic and people will ask questions." She started taking a bite, Eileen peaked at her son who stared at his potato. "And if they do, you don't have to tell them anything. It's none of their business."

He nodded again poking the vegetable.

Growing concerned she put her fork down and reached to her son's chin to lift his face to see. But he only moved his head away, Eileen's concern grew at that. "If you're still not alright, we can wait another week for school. Still haven't told me anything about what happened. Told Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson."

Still he spoke not a word, now piercing the baked potato's skin.

Eileen thought for a moment then tapped the table with her hand. "I know, we can call in a friend you can talk to." She stood and went over to her phone book on the side table with the phone. "I know a few consultants just for the-"

**SLAM**

She spun to her son who slammed his hands on the table, to Eileen's shock -not the slamming bit- her own son was looking hard at her. She was a bit scared, that look was the same as _her's_.

"Are you alright, Cur-"

"Mum." He spoke taking a few breaths to get his courage out. Eileen was a bit scared but kept her look of concern on. "Why did you hide her from me?"

Eileen feared this; she heard from Mr. Holmes that he did indeed find out who Helena was, as she 'disobeyed' and left anyway. With a straight face, the mother stuck her nose up in the air looking to the wall. "It was for your own good and for the family's own good." She told.

"I should have a right to know who is part of this family." He told standing erect. "Especially my own sister."

His mother turned to him. "She is _not_ part of this family."

Curtis chewed his lip in thought. Reading Sherlock does this on John's blog; he took the chair his mother sat in and put it in the opened area, then took his own and placed it across from her and sat down, crossing his arms and legs in wait.

"What are you doing?" She questioned his odd upfront behavior.

"I want all the answers to my questions, if you're not going to give them to me then I might as well go back out there and ask my sister myself." He told glaring her chair awaiting her choice.

Not wanting him to do so, she complied and sat down across from him. "She's not your sister." She muttered near childishly.

"Then what is she?"

Eileen looked right into his eyes. "A mistake." Curtis leaned back seeing the hate in his mother's eyes. Not towards him, but to Helena. "She always was different from the other kids. Never minding her own business, getting into trouble and coming home filthy with injuries." She scoffed, "Your father tried to hide it from me, but I knew. A black sheep is all she is, now with filth just like her."

Curtis shook his head, not believe what was coming out of his mother's mouth. "That was so bad? Just because she was different?" His hand rubbed his forehead.

"Dear, she did more than just that." Her eyes went to a photo of her and her husband resting on the wall. "She did something horrible that changed this family."

Curtis followed her gaze and looked back to her with knitted brows. "What?"

With a inhale, his mum answered, "She killed your father."

* * *

Fingers typed away as John Watson was writing their recent case, though a title hasn't been given yet, he didn't even know if he would publish this one on his blog. This said case was of the teenager Curtis Shaw asking Sherlock Holmes to find his long lost sister, bring her back, and find out what happened to her. Though said detective labeled it 'unsolved' still, John counts it as enough to start writing. He found her, brought her back -sort of- and now it was his time to find out the truth.

The doctor looked up to give his fingers a break peering at the sight of the flat. Sherlock was currently on his laptop looking through emails in that bored fashion of his. To his surprise, Helena had actually stayed at the flat for the past week not even left. Whenever he or Sherlock left she'd be here sitting somewhere in her own world, silent and not looking or talking to anyone. The males didn't complain about her stay and didn't mind it; she slept on the couch, ate what Mrs. Hudson made, and stayed out of anyone's -Sherlock's- way. John wondered how long this would last, she likes freedom and to stretch her body out for a good run. Maybe the jump made her hesitant to return to her usual canter around London. Thought no one brought it up, it was obvious Sherlock kept an eye on her.

John would see how the two would interact silently when they passed each other or when she was sitting looking bored or just plain sad. He would make her tea the way she liked it, hand her a book for her to read from his shelf, and most of all played his violin which lead to her fall asleep. Of course, this didn't start from the first day. John kept up on this as it nearly turned into a daily routine for over ten days.

John would wake up to her on the couch still sleeping, if awake she'd be lying there almost wanting to go back to sleep. Sherlock emerged and would start his experiments or go to Bart's morgue to get or work on more stuff. John had talked to her or tried to a few days only to have her give a shoulder of silence. Around noon Sherlock would make tea for her and himself as John was out to shop or job search. She didn't accept it from him at first, but soon did and the detective enjoyed the silent tea time between them until Mrs. Hudson made her way up with some treats. In the Evening when John returned, he would ask Sherlock about dinner, always leading to take out if there was a new body part in the fridge. Another attempt to get Helena to talk was to ask if she wanted anything, but never gets a word out.

One morning, two were eating breakfast. Sherlock spotted the tramp trying to reach a book out of her reach. John noticed the paused eating of his flat mate and looked up following Sherlock's gaze. Though he only watched to see if she'd get it, John cleared his throat getting the detective's attention. John nodded toward her with raised brows, giving the notion to help her. Sherlock furrowed his brows at him and looked back down at his food, thinking she did fine on her own. That was proven wrong as Helena was at this for a good five minutes before huffing in aggravation, she took the blanket over John's chair and pouted on the couch covering herself and over the head with it. Said man looked over at Sherlock expectedly, was this going to be one of his 'she can get over it' moments? Clearing his throat, John kept pestering him to help her; tapping his fork, whistling, and even Finally sick of the annoyance, he got up trudged and into the room like a teenager forced to do a chore.

He stopped in the middle of the room eyeing Helena, though he didn't see what book she wanted, the detective strode over taking whatever book was out of her reach. John watched Sherlock stroll across to Helena and hold the book out to her despite with her wrapped in a blanket, couldn't see Sherlock's act of 'kindness'. The man waved the book wanting her to already take it from his hand, soon he just dropped it on the table and turned to continue his meal.

"Happy?" Sherlock asked John as he bit into his toast.

John mumbled, "Such a child." but the flatmate ignored the insult.

Breakfast done, one out of the two flatmates went off to shower leaving Sherlock to watch Helena hiding under the blanket. Sure that night was pretty off to her, he thought either she was scared from jumping off the building or what happened to Curtis. No, he knew what it was. It was just a calm act for John, Sherlock was honestly glad to have Helena sitting around here. After seeing her- He instinctively closed his eyes and shook his head to rid the replaying image in his mind.

The detective had tried all night and morning to delete this from his mind palace, but no matter how hard he tried it wouldn't go away. Closing his eyes, fingers to his temples; he gave another try. The screaming, the heart wrenching feeling, the pain. He didn't like what this memory was making him _feel_.

No! He can't, he has to delete this! Feelings weren't for him, he was a sociopath! This memory made his heart sink, giving him a sick feeling, sweat try to produce through his skin, and brought.. was this fear? Fear of Helena hurting or, dying from her jump. She may have if he and Lestrade hadn't caught her or her angle wasn't too close to the cop cars.

"Sherlock?" Eyes snapped open to find the said tramp standing in front of him, blanket wrapped around her still but with her free hand held the book he gave her. Was she to thank him? "I umm, I can't read this."

His brows lowered, sure it wasn't _the_ she was trying to get a book none the less. "What's wrong with it, you wanted a book did you not?"

Her tired eyes looked down to it then to his own. "Yes, I did. But I don't understand Russian."

Sherlock looked at the book in her hand, it was indeed a Russian novel. "..Oh." He took it and went over to the case returning it, then turned to her. "Which one did you want?"

Hesitating, she maneuvered over to him and looked up. Helena scanned the bookshelf, but turned away. "It's not there, I thought it was."

"What was?"

She sighed sitting on the couch. "The Walkaway. Maybe I imagined it." Re-wrapping the blanket, she let it over her head and curled up facing the couch.

Sherlock thought over the title, he was sure he had it. Looking over his selves, he found out it was indeed not there. Where the hell did it go? He found himself later checking under the buried papers at the table, then through the kitchen moving the plates _just _next to the sink, and finally strode into his room to see if he left it in there. Sure the rest of the flat was a mess but he usually never leaves his room close to being off balance. Only time it was would be when Helena took her naps in there, at least he stop with accusing her of 'dirtying' his bed with her 'filth'.

John emerged from the bathroom feeling fresh from his shower to find Helena still on the couch but Sherlock gone, he didn't hear him pass the door into his room so he assumed he went to change. Said doctor made it for the stairs, but paused hearing the dark haired man return with a book in his hand. The bloody thing was hiding in his side table drawer with a paper in it, so Helena left it there as he's read it enough times already. John watched as Sherlock removed the blanket from her head and presented the book to her. Her smile was soft taking it and giving Sherlock a thanks before opening it to continue her reading. Little did Sherlock know John spotted a softer smile on his lips seeing Helena was pleased with his true act of kindness.

This went on and to John's surprise Sherlock was treating her much better then when she had her eye injury. He offered what was left of his food or even his full meal when he wasn't hungry from morning to evening. Leaving the remote by the couch for her to watch TV, with him giving his input now and then letting the girl have a good laugh. John didn't know what happened when he was out on a random blind date, job searching, or just food shopping so he assumed it was the same as him there. But when he was gone, Sherlock would act kinder without the doctor's eyes watching him. The detective would give her new books to read when she finished, hack into John's laptop for her to use for any internet entertainment. Though he wasn't one for it, he did help navigate video sights as she hadn't been using the internet being homeless for years. Hell took her a good while to figure out how to text on her cell phone. And the one thing late at night John could hear, was Sherlock playing his violin of soft somber music, lulling Helena to sleep.

It wasn't until John noticed that Helena didn't seem to be leaving by the 5th day. She never stayed that long without even going near a window, she didn't even give it a glance. He grew worried, but if he brought it up he didn't want to possibly upset her if it was what he thought.

* * *

There was a few times Helena was alone in the flat, John and Sherlock were both out, sadly as was Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock was called to Lestrade and John followed with him, the two tried to coax her to come with them, but only told Sherlock she was fine alone. Though she didn't expect Mrs. H to had left earlier that morning.

Sitting there staring at the television not really paying attention to what was on, currently on commercial. Though it wasn't her main focus, her mind wandered off. Curled in Sherlock's chair, the soft wool blanket wrapped around her tightening herself more into a ball. Helena grew comfortable and found herself to fall asleep in the chair not hearing the door creak open behind her.

It felt longer and more tortuous; the repeated dream made her feel construction in her breath and body restricted from movement. All she kept seeing was her brother falling from her grip, that face of who she once considered her only family, then herself growing closer to the ground below. Wishing to wake up every time she make contact with the ground, it only repeated over and over again. Growing louder and harder to breath or move, only wishing to be rid of this horror.

A touch on her arm threw her back into the real world. Sweat peeling through her skin, arms trembling down to her fingertips, eyes wide with terror seeing the man who awoke her.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Helena glared the man and slapped his hand away roughly, "It's bad enough your brother sees me like this.." She cleared her dry throat and stood to get a drink from the kitchen.

Mycroft watched her get a bottle of cold water from the fridge, she checked if it was opened before doing so herself and jugged a good amount. "Why not simply leave if you wish he didn't?" He asked leaning on his umbrella casually.

Helena sent another glare wiping her mouth, she returned with her water and made her way to the couch feeling the coffee table was a wall between her and the government man. Though he kept to his spot, he soon took seat to John's chair facing her. While she glared, he just smiled in that smug way of his.

"It's been nearly a week and no response." He spoke twisting the cane of his umbrella.

"And?"

"I simply came to make sure you weren't kidnapped, again. Or hanging from a building."

Her eyes narrowed hugging the blanket closer to her after putting the bottle on the table. "You saw?"

"Cameras."

"Of course." She grunted looking away from his gaze. "Did you know?"

He gave a puzzled look, fake or not was hard to determine. "Know what? That your brother was foolishly taken by the man you thought you could trust or-"

"You know what!" She barked letting her voice crack. "You knew Trevor was with Moriarty. You knew, Sherlock knew, even John knew. You all knew and never told me!"

Mycroft took a breath. "Did you think to believe if we ever did?

Her jaw locked up at that inquisition. Sure she had asked Sherlock- no _demand _Sherlock where Trevor had gone. He either ignored the question or changed the subject. She remembers telling Mycroft about this as well.

_"I was hoping to find Trevor and ask him. He saw it happen."_

_"Are you so sure?"_

Helena dug her nails deep into her blanket, of course his words were a warning. Or at least a hint to rethink her words on what Trevor-

"Wait, Mycroft!" She stood noticing he was now making his exit to the door. He paused turning to her. Biting her lip, Helena gulped and asked, "What was Trevor r-really doing when I lost my sight?"

Mycroft watched her, fear was in her eyes to find out the true horror of what her once was long friend truly doing and his intentions back then. The brother knew everything and everyone- it was his job as the government, but pleasure as Mycroft Holmes. "It's not my job to answer this."

She exhaled pressing her hands together and knotting them up feeling clammy. "You know who to ask." And with that, the elder Holmes made his leave not planning to see the younger Holmes. Not today.

The sound of a phone buzzing caught her attention, her phone sat on the table between the windows. She straddled over the coffee table taking it hoping it was from Sherlock wanting to ask more than ever. To her dismay, it was just a text from Mycroft.

**Sherlock will be needing you.**

**Don't let his answer change you.**

**-MH**

* * *

The next afternoon of a surprisingly warm spring day proved how May was ending, and the summer of June was arriving. Although it wouldn't last long as warm days were rare enough it felt like winter all year long in England.

Sherlock was dressing for the day buttoning his white dress shirt when a knock came on the door. Knowing it wasn't Helena, he called "What is it John?" as Helena never knocks and was sleeping on the couch currently.

The doctor came in standing halfway in as Sherlock tucked his shirt in. "Are you busy?" He asked, he himself dressed in one of his many plain dress shirts.

"If this has to do with figuring your password out, try harder." He told not batting an eye to his flat mate buttoning his cuffs.

John was about to answer, but mouth closed and brows narrowed at Sherlock's response. He looked to down the hall where his poor multiple violated laptop sat. Holding back a remark to the action, "Uh, no, no it doesn't." he entered and closed the door behind him.

"A client?" He asked getting his black blazer on making sure the lapel wasn't folded over.

"Nope. This is about Helena." John got to the point finally getting Sherlock to take a glance at him.

"What about her?"

Hands folded behind his back he cleared his throat to get his thoughts out. "Well, it has been over a week- nearly two since the incident with Curtis." Sherlock 'hm-hmmed' for him to continue. "She hasn't left this flat since and is barely talking to us."

Buttoning the blazer he finally turns to the doctor seeing his clothing look fine in the mirror. "Where are you going with this, John?"

"It's just that this isn't like Helena. Sure she visits and has had some moments-"

"Moments?" He questioned with narrowed brows.

"Everyone does when traumatic events occur; little to no appetite, frustrations, social withdrawal-"

"She seems social with me." Sherlock pointed out.

"Yes with you, but not Mrs. Hudson nor I. She keeps getting messages on her phone but never responds to them or touch it."

Sherlock walked over to his bed sitting down to put his shoes on. "If from my brother, I wouldn't respond either."

John didn't even want to ask why Mycroft would message her, clearly something that went over his head that didn't concern him right now. "How about the little appetite?" He asked with now folded arms.

"She eats fine of what portions I have to give."

"Mood swings?"

"That's normal in women."

"How about the night terrors?" Sherlock paused to answer, getting his shoes on firmly and standing he sighed.

"I know there is, John. What do you expect me to do? Go straight to her and tell her she's suffering from Post traumatic Stress Disorder?" He asked sharply.

"Not straightforwardly, but yes. She needs to get out there." John motioned to the window.

Sherlock scoffed getting his phone off his bedside table checking for messages. "Thought you would 'scold' me for not treating her right. After all, don't these things need to be taken delicately?"

John half turned bringing a hand down his mouth to his chin, Sherlock wasn't wrong. John went through this when returning from Afghanistan, after meeting Sherlock the cases and crime solving really helped him. He guessed it would do the same for Helena, but he once offered her to go with Sherlock when called by Lestrade only to deny it and go to his room to nap. Anything mentioned about going outside she went quiet or left the room.

"Am I wrong?" Sherlock questioned glancing up from his texting with a raised brow.

Breaking his thought, he answered, "No, no you're not. But how do we get her… _her_ back?" He tried to word out.

The detective shrugged. "Try to take her out, you haven't talked with her at all and I've been doing all the hard work." John's jaw dropped at those words. Him? _Him!?_ He was sounding like a wife complaining about doing all the house work.

"Easier said than done." The doctor mumbled as Sherlock made his way to the door leaving the room.

John followed, the two finding Helena by the window looking outside. It brightened the doctor a bit, Sherlock paused in getting his coat finding himself with the same feeling with her by her door to freedom. Though she showed no intentions of going out said 'door', it was the only improvement they saw of her for the past week. Hearing the creaking of the wood below their feet, Helena turned seeing Sherlock tying his scarf around her neck.

"To Bart's, Molly has a sample for me to use on a case Lestrade wants me to solve. Shouldn't take long." He assured quickly looking to her not needing her to ask. Helena nodded and turned back, Sherlock gave John a wink and made his leave down and out of the flat.

John chewed his inner cheek, how can he get Helena out?

* * *

That was surprisingly easier than he assumed.

"You still have trouble with the machine?" Helena asked, hood over her head and hands shoved into her jacket pocket as she walked down the street with John.

"Eh, yea. It's got it in for me." He joked with a followed chuckle.

"What makes you think I can work it? Have you forgotten I don't go there as often as you do, I don't use the machines." She told looking to him.

"How do you buy foods?" He asked.

"I don't get them at big markets, just small convenience stores. For others, that's a different story." The two stopped at a red light crosswalk.

John looked to a building on his left seeing a ladder to get to the roof. "Helena, why don't you go ahead of me?"

She looked to him confused, he pointed over and she turned seeing the ladder. Helena looked up at the height of the building but looked away instantly tugged her hood. "No, I don't.. want to leave you behind." She excused.

John pushed it. "No, it's alright. You haven't been out for a while so you're probably itching for a good run." He looked to her, she turned giving a deadpan look. John innocently asked, "What?"

"I'm not an idiot John, I know what you and Sherlock talked about." She admitted making her way across the street.

He jogged after her. "We're trying to help-"

"Ever thought maybe I just don't want to be outside?"

"We did, that's what's concerning." She looked to him with a raised brow. "Helena, Hawkeye not wanting to go outside?" He tilted his head.

Helena thought on his words, and sighed in defeat. "Yea, I can imagine that is concerning." Silent for a moment for another block, she asked, "Is this how you felt?"

"Hm?"

"When coming back from Afghanistan. Just.." She exhaled trying to find the right words. "Like you can't escape from what you've seen or experienced. It repeats in your mind without-"

"Any control? ..Yea." He nodded smiling gently to her. "When I returned I had a therapist, and she suggested I make a blog of having a normal life, that adjusting would be harder. It was harder than I imagined." Helena listened moving from nearly walking into a by stander.

"Barely slept, no appetite, even gained trust issues." John added. "My blog was empty and I struggled just to go out."

Helena chewed her lip. "What got you out?"

John shrugged, "Can't say, I guess the thought of maybe tiring myself would help me sleep or find something to happen in my life."

"Did it?"

He chuckled giving his chin a scratch as the arrived at the food mart, he smiled to her. "Well, that was a day an utter jerk came into it." John went ahead into the building leaving Helena to his words.

The day he decided to go out, his life had indeed changed. He met Sherlock Holmes. The tramp shook her head and removed her hood entering to follow through the aisles with John Watson.

It was a treat to be shopping with John, she gone with him a few times but waited outside and helped him carry the bags mostly. Helena saw a lot of food she hadn't ever set her sights on and was highly curious to the taste. When she wasn't looking, John snuck a box of jimmy dodgers in his basket for her. The duo got the needed items, milk, bread, jam; small amount but needed items. John at times over though on things for the fridge since they at times ended up thrown out with Sherlock constantly holding the said large appliance with body parts.

"Want to try the machine?" John offered as they made it to the self check-out.

Helena looked up getting the items ready in the basket. She took a good look at the machine, then to John. "Did you forget the part of 'I don't know how to work it'?"

John took her by the shoulders and gently lead her to the front of the machine. "It instructs you, don't worry."

Trusting John, Helena didn't want to look stupid with a line building behind her. The screen showed the selections, one she found 'scan items'. She pressed her finger to the button, the screen transitioned to a three picture instruction. Though she jumped when the voice loudly came out, "Slide the bar code on the items across the scanner below."

Her eyes went to John to nodded to her to do as instructed. A sigh escaped her as she picked up the milk, tilting the jug she found the bar code and quickly slid it across the red light.

"Item not scanned. Please try again." John dreaded this, but noticed Helena held it too high from the scanner.

"Put it right against the red light." He told, she repeated the process.

"One milk."

Helena continued, with John helping her to go slower or closer to the scanner. He was glad they seemed to have fixed the machine since last time. When she got all the items, the tramp got flustered on what to do next, with nothing more to scan.

"Here." John handed her his credit card, pressing the button 'pay now'.

"Please insert debt or credit card to pay." It told them, which John near hesitated.

Helena held the card up, she noticed the picture on the screen showing how to put it in. She noticed it was backwards and quickly fixed so before pushing it in. John punched in his pin number.

"Card not authorized. Please use an alternative method of payment."

John's heart sank at those words. "Shit." He cussed and checked his other pockets if he had cash on him this time.

"Don't tell me this happened that one time-"

"Yea, it did. Damn.." Sadly he found no cash. Helena pressed the 'eject card' and gave it back to prevent him from losing it again. "You wouldn't happen to have money on you?"

She gave a guilt look, "I don't carry cash with me.." She admitted, "I think my card is back at the flat."

John felt it wasn't her fault but he himself should've been prepared. "Well, guess we'll have to-"

"Payment accepted." The two turned seeing someone had already stuck their debit card in the slot paying for the items when the two weren't looking.

"Why is it I have to pay for everything?" Sherlock questioned as he received his card back with a receipt.

A bit shocked by him being there out of the blue, the two took the bags and followed him out the door. "I thought you went to Bart's."

"Me too." He retorted and added, "I couldn't with my case still open."

Helena was a bit confused until she looked past Sherlock seeing a certain teen standing a few feet from the market entrance. He waved innocently wearing his uniform, fresh from school. Sherlock took her arm as she looked up feeling her heart pound, wanting to run. She looked to John who had that look of fault. Ah, this is why John got her out.

"He needs this closed, both of you." Sherlock told.

Helena wanted her arm free yanking it to get out of Sherlock's grip. "He knows his sister, that's all he needs to know." She told refusing to look at anyone.

"Helena," John spoke seeing her react the way he feared. "We need to have this done. As Sherlock said you both need closure."

"What more could there be!?" Her voice rose gaining eyes from others entering and exiting the market.

"Our dad."

She froze, her eyes slowly moved up from glaring the pavement to see her brother had approached. He looked better since the incident, she was glad. But the very mention of their father she saw his pleading eyes, her heart ached at the look. Sherlock felt her struggle die down and let his grip loosened, but not completely.

"Helena, sis." He gulped his dry throat stepping closer, he reached down and gently took her hand. His soft ones to her slightly rougher ones. "Please tell me about our father."

* * *

**Thank you morikhelek13, littleanjel, four-fifty, MarieSeleneArroyo, Fictionlover012298, Tai-Ookami, KilalaInara, ninjagirlA2O, xxDignity, Regin, , Red of Dawn, Odette13, aliaswriter, 1525, ashleydiana105, uzumaki49, Buggy98,bLiteratureCat, icecoatedsha, for the favorites and follows for the story!**

**Lunar678- Thanks! I did the last chapter early to be ahead of time. Holidays are coming around so looking for a job and finally getting the room painted. Glad you're enjoying the story! =D**

**MyCatDoesMyLaundry- Thanks for the understanding. Yea, it is sad these things happen.**

**We've gladly discovered my hard drive is NOT the problem so everything I have is saved! It's the CD drive that's the problem so my dad is fixing it today. Sorry if there's a lot of spelling errors, this was half written on my tablet and other half on my mom's laptop which sucks with typing.**

**Two days late, but the story is a year old! Surprised this isn't done but proud I kept going thanks to you guys!**


	22. Chapter 22

If they didn't have any groceries, Sherlock would be content with this in the park. But since they did, back to the flat they went, John and Curtis in lead with Sherlock and Helena bit behind. They kept her with a bag knowing she wouldn't just run off and drop the stuff, plus Sherlock still had a grip on her not to let her run if she tried. Sherlock felt her no longer struggle after Curtis' question, but never can predict Helena these days.

Once at the flat John was in the kitchen keeping his ears open while putting food away. Sherlock sat at the dining table facing the couch where the siblings sat on each ends. Though no one spoke, each waited to see who would do the deed. John emerged from the kitchen looking at Sherlock who stared at the two, then looked to the brother and sister; Helena was turned away from Curtis trying to make it as if he wasn't there, while Curtis looked at her hoping she'd turn to him any minute. The doctor took a seat at the opposite of Sherlock moving a bit toward the wall to not block his view, he'd get an earful if so.

"So, uh," John spoke. "Helena, did you answer Curtis' question?"

"No, I wish she would." Curtis told for her not expecting her to talk anytime soon.

"Didn't your mother explain it all?" He asked.

"Curtis was not satisfied with the answer she has given him." Sherlock told, hands steepled to his chin with elbows propped on the table surface. "She lied to him before and kept a sister out of his life. Would you believe her in his shoes?"

John didn't have to think on that, his trust was thin like Helena's when first meeting Sherlock. Of course if someone held a lifelong secret, how can one trust what they would say? He nodded with a sigh, pondering how this would work out.

Sherlock suddenly stood, straightening his blazer. "I'll tell." He offered getting everyone's attention. Helena sent a glare his direction as he only offered a smile, almost to antagonize her.

Not peaceful, John thought.

"It all started-"

Helena jumped to her feet. "Speak another word, and I swear the skull goes _right _up your-"

John groaned rubbing his eyes, was this really gonna lead to anything? Sherlock had a better chance telling him when he was with Curtis alone.

"Making empty threats won't get you anywhere."

"They are not empty, I can assure you!"

"Emptier than the skull itself."

"How about I stuff the skull than stuff you!?"

"Umm, pardon?" Despite the low voice, the two turned to the stunned looking teen on the couch. "C-Can I just get what I came for?" His expression not matching his voice, Curtis looked highly annoyed. Fists clenched at his knees looking straight at Helena.

The two currently inches from their faces -mostly Helena getting in his face-, they stepped back keeping from saying another word to one another.

"Mum told me you murdered him, I can't trust her from what she's done. How could I?" The boy stood and walked around the coffee table to Helena standing right in front of her. "I have the highest right to know the truth. Why keep it from me?"

With a gulp, Helena stepped back to give herself space. "I have my reasons."

John stood, "If he wants to know, he has every right to know."

"What reasons are these?" Curtis questioned her.

Helena felt pressured, two of three males here knew the story. Should the third find out? Her eyes tightly closed as she felt the haunted guilt ran over her rigid body. The memories flooding back, the blood, the scream, her shaking hands remembering the feeling of her father's blood on those hands.

The three noticed she trying to curl herself in, a defensive action the two men have noted for when she was feeling scared or anxious. Sherlock didn't move, but turned to Curtis lightly pushing his shoulder to indicate she needed a bit of space. Curtis was going to comply, but moved around the detective to Helena, grabbing her shoulders.

"Tell me!" He pleaded at her.

"Curtis-" John moved only for Sherlock to stop him, earning a questioning scowl from the doctor.

"Everyone hides me in the dark, and I can't stand to be in that darkness anymore." The emotions ran out of the teen all at once. "You not telling me the truth is as equal as Mum hiding the truth about you."

Helena stared at him in shock by those words. Had he just compared her to that..._that_ person? But, Helena was keeping it from him for his protection. Then again, was she keeping Helena from him for his protection? She had chances to show herself to him, and never had for his safety. But look where that lead him; kidnapped, dangled for his life, used as bribery against her- what more could come to his life?

"Helena," Came the low voice she knew, her eyes slowly shifted to Sherlock. He had his hands behind his back looking calm, but at the same time paused to reflect on how to spend his words. "You wish to protect him, if he doesn't know who you are in your dangerous life he'd be safe from said danger."

She nodded shakily, glancing to Curtis who now looked to the detective. "It's just what I feared to happen."

Sherlock took a step. "Wouldn't that be the same if I kept you from my _dangerous_ job?"

John looked to him a bit dumbfounded by those words. Was he acting or was he being true to his words?

Helena scoffed crossing her arms tightly. "You liar, I'm not stupid Sherlock the second you found my skill you wanted me involved."

"Not true-"

"How is that not true!?"

"Do you remember the first thing that happened when you got involved?" Sherlock questioned raising his voice with a hard stare. "You were accused of murder because of my words and accusations of the killer. When you were let out, you were initially not to be more involved with us."

Curtis felt a bit lost, when had this happened? Dating back on when he read the Blind Banker, that was back up earlier this year. He had to keep in mind his sister was Hawk. He looked to his sister, his words were still a shock to him, had she felt cornered when Sherlock got in?

"That's bollocks and you know it!" She barked at him pointing a finger at him.

"I get it."

All heads turned to the teen, John was about to stop the argument but seems Curtis beat him to it. Sherlock stepped to him, "You understand why she hid herself from you?"

Curtis nodded, he raised his head meeting eye contact with Helena. "I thought protecting me was going to be the same 'protection' Mum said. But you really were keeping me from getting hurt." He walked over to Helena, she didn't step away this time. Her feet felt glued to the floor unable to think to move from him.

"I-I may not get physically hurt from not knowing you, but emotionally it really hurts. I rather be punched over and over then feel pain I can't fix." Curtis explained, or tried to as Sherlock gave a confused glance to John. Knowing the detective wasn't good with emotions, he just shook his head indicating to not say a word.

"You kept me safe all this time, haven't you? Hidden around London watching me, even that time you beat up those jerks." A smile graced the sibling's lips at that memory.

"I couldn't let that pass me." She admitted.

Curtis smiled. "I'll find out eventually, I just want a clear answer. Our father." Helena had a hesitant anxious look. "I want to hear from you."

Helena looked to John and Sherlock, John gave a comforting smile while Sherlock just nodded for her to finally tell. She took a deep breath, and exhaled largely motioning for him to sit back on the couch. Slowly he did so, as she stood in her spot keeping her focus on him. Without the two noticing, John and Sherlock left to give the brother and sister some time.

"Years ago when you were too young to remember, dad and I went to do some shopping. I waited outside, I saw a homeless man bullied by some bastards. I always stood up for them, even at a young age." Curtis nodding keeping himself intent, Helena paused and took a breath. "One of them pulled out a gun, I-I turned into deer in the head lights. I just-" She gulped knotting her fingers together. "I couldn't move. But our dad did and ri-right.. right when…" Her eyes closed, mouth ran dry unable to go further. Memories circling her mind of that day.

A hand touched her's, looking up she found Curtis leaning over to her. He managed to uncurl her hands and stood once again gaining a hold her hands. "He saved you, didn't he?"

Helena nodded promptly, closing her eyes again. "I'm so sorry, Curtis. H-He.. I was pinned with the g-gun right there and.. Dad, he-"

"Say no more, sis." Curtis hold her hands tightly, sniffling a bit she looked up seeing he himself was tearing up. "He saved you, like a parent is meant to do. It's not your fault, his fault, or anyone's fault." Letting her hands go, Curtis wrapped his arms tightly around her to giving a deep warm hug. "Thank you for telling me, dad I think-" He sniffed. "Dad would be happy for what you're doing."

Helena crooked out looking at him, "H-How would you know?"

He smiled at her through tear filled eyes, "Because he knows you're there for me, and so will I be for you. So long as there's no more hiding in the dark between us."

The elder sister felt her heart skip at those words. Finally she returned the hug holding her precious brother tightly close to her. Curtis let the tears fall down his face, but they were no longer sad but happy tears.

John smiled peeking from the kitchen between the sliding doors, the siblings finally resolved. Sherlock was pouring himself some tea, John closed the doors and turned with a content sigh. "Glad that's finally over."

Sherlock turned sipping his tea as John came over next to him to get his own tea. "Hm, indeed." Sherlock agreed taking a seat at the kitchen table, that surprisingly had minimum clutter than usual.

"Now the case is officially closed," That made Sherlock grin. "and we can get on with Helena reconnecting to her family." This time Sherlock disagreed giving John the look. The doctor groaned putting his cup down and leaning on the kitchen table. "What?"

Sherlock shook his head, "It's obvious this connection will go as far as her brother, their mother won't be accepting Helena as easily or anytime soon." He explained.

John rolled his eyes, knowing the man just had to ruin any good moment. "Well, these two are fine themselves. I'm happy with that." He walked over checking on them again seeing the two were still clearing things like Helena's leave and the times she kept watch, as Curtis informed the years she wasn't there. Sherlock was going to do some chemistry, but looking over he saw through the door crack the siblings just about from his angle. Who knew the sociopath would work so hard as to _bluff_ his way to his protection to Helena when they first met.

"At least she can leave." Sherlock added as he sipped his tea earning a look from his flat mate.

* * *

Things seemed to have gone back to normal for the trio, minus the fact Helena was no longer hiding to see Curtis. The two met up every week now unbeknownst of the mother. She told him the ventures of the street and ones with Sherlock and John. The teen found her skill of parkour amazing and never seemed surprised to find her hanging off a building or making her leave over a roof top. He himself fearful of heights, but encouraged her that since the incident he didn't dare go near a roof. Helena was indeed back to herself in no time, fixing her appetite and maintaining her physicality. She hasn't seen Sherlock much so no updates to Mycroft were given. Only a few 'bored' and 'another case deny' was sent.

This wasn't a lie, when someone did ask for Sherlock's help the possibility of 20-100 he denied them finding the case boring. That's it! Just, boring. Two were affairs that Sherlock cleared that yes, one affair was true leaving the client shocked. One was a man that angered Sherlock about something with ashes. Helena didn't question it any further when John told her. Another was a man with two guys who gave the vibe of some threat or protection to the man wanted secret files found, it was turned down. Sometimes Helena wondered how picky this man could be over clients.

Soon she was called onto a case involving some geeks and comics. Seemed she had to ask Curtis assuming he was apart of said community. He claimed he knew nothing of it but asked around to some he knew with no answers to her dismay. When Helena made her return a few days later, Sherlock had solved it and John was already writing it out on his blog. He titled it, "The Geek Interpreter."

"So my help wasn't needed at all?" She questioned standing in the middle of the room with a cross look.

"It's not the first time he's pulled this stunt, so don't take it personal." John assured looking between his blog and Helena as he sat in his arm chair.

Without warning Sherlock swoops in from the kitchen over John's shoulder, low brows glaring the screen. "'Geek Interpreter.' What's that?" He questioned skimming the words John had wrote so far.

"It's the title." John told without a glance to his flatmate.

"What's it need a title for?" He questioned, earning no response from the man just a tight patient grin.

Helena nearly chased Sherlock demanding to not be treated as a toy when she could be spending her time on more important things. Sherlock walked about to avoid her 'whining' as he put it, John made sure to give her some good justice in this story for the blog.

* * *

The next case -called by Lestrade- she indeed wasn't called upon, at the flat John was writing said new case as she joined them that breakfast. Helena sat at the couch texting Mycroft of a new update just as Sherlock wandered in. He paused his walking and stepped back taking a peek at John's blog. A scowl came to his features, hissing out with a full mouth, "Oh, for God's sakes!"

Helena looked over hearing Sherlock as he was currently eating a piece of toast. "What?" John asked innocently.

""The Speckled Blonde"?!" He continued his way over to the couch, reading the paper in his other hand. John paused and watched him, as he sat beside Helena.

As he fixed the paper, she snatched the toast and took a hearty bite out of it. Sherlock glared her as she beamed muffling out, "Thanks Gov'." in a mocking cockney accent.

* * *

One evening, Helena sat with two girls who she happened to find outside the flat as she was about to drop by for her evening visit. Seemed the girls wanted a question to Sherlock, so she helped them inside and..

"They wouldn't let us see Granddad when he was dead. Is that 'cause he'd gone to heaven?" One of the girls asked curiously.

Sherlock answered in the best way possible. "People don't really go to heaven when they die. They're taken to a special room and burned."

The two girls looked to each other at that answer, John closed his eyes not believing what had just escaped Sherlock's mouth. "Sherlock.."

Helena glared at him trying hard to not hit him or throw the heaviest object in the room at him with the girls present. Once the girls left, Helena left without a word to the detective that night.

* * *

Later another case was called, Lestrade once again. From the last time, Helena hoped Sherlock wouldn't go pouting off about dumb ashes this time. The trio were called to an open grounds near some construction site behind them. Lestrade lead them to a car with the trunk lifted open.

"There was a plane crash in Dusseldorf yesterday. Everyone dead." He informed.

"Suspected terrorist bomb. We do watch the news." Sherlock retorted coat tightly wrapped around him on this windy day.

John countered, "You said "Boring," and turned over."

"What's the plan crash have to do with this?" Helena asked nicely as she then spotted a arm hanging out of the trunk; a dead man resting inside. Sherlock went to work as Lestrade explained.

"Well, according to the flight details, this man was checked in on board. Inside his coat" Lestrade numbered off the items in the plastic bags showing them. "he's got a stub from his boarding pass, napkins from the flight, even one of those special biscuits. Here's his passport stamped in Berlin Airport. So this man should have died in a plane crash in Germany yesterday but instead he's in a car boot in Southwark."

She nodded. "Oh, I see the connection now."

"Lucky escape!" John lightly joked.

"Not much of one." Helena joined.

Lestrade looked to Sherlock who inspected the man's fingers with his magnifier. "Any ideas?" He asked.

"Eight, so far." The three watched him, as he moved to look over the body. Suddenly, he frowns. "Okay, four ideas." He turns, taking the passport from Greg and looking it over, John Coniston. Almost looking… confused much to Helena and John's notice, Sherlock glanced to the sky. "Maybe two ideas.." He says almost unsurely as a passenger jet flies overhead them.

It was unusual to see unsolved cases, but not even Sherlock Holmes as the answer to all.

"No no, no," He barked with a blowtorch in one hand and beaker in the other, hunching over John's shoulder _again_. "don't mention the _unsolved _ones!"

The tramp of the three just entered to find this with a hot mug of tea left for her as per usual. With a sigh she removed his safety goggles confiscating them. "Don't like the title again?" She asked seeing it as "Sherlock Holmes Baffled".

John answered, "People want to know you're human."

"Why?" Sherlock questioned.

He looked down continuing his typing. "'Cause they're interested."

"No they're not. _Why _are they?"

Helena grinned, "Good question, I ask myself that everyday." Sherlock glared her way, as she beamed like an immature child.

"One thousand, eight hundred, and ninety-five." John said.

"Sorry, what?" He and Helena looked over as John pointed at the counter at the side of the page.

"I re-set that counter last night. This blog has had nearly two thousand hits in the last eight hours. This is your living, Sherlock and you as well Helena." She raised a brow, what living? "Not two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash." He mumbled at the end.

Sherlock gave one last look, replying with "Two hundred and forty-three" He fired up the blowtorch and snatching his goggles from Helena to return to his work… in a sulking manner.

* * *

On a better roll with the next one, Sherlock, John, and Helena were leaving a crime scene just as said tramp got down from the rafters to check something on Sherlock's request. As they three were making their leave, Sherlock was asking John the title of this case.

"So, what's this one? "Belly Button Murders"?" He suggested sarcastically.

"That just sounds like a children's book, be creative." Helena scolded.

""The Naval Treatment"?" John told only to earn a groan from him.

Lestrade joined them to the exit to the back door. "There's a lot of press outside, guys." He informed taking front next to Sherlock as John and Helena hung back behind them.

"Well, they won't be interested in us." Sherlock assured tiredly making a left turn.

Another left then a right, Lestrade said,"Yeah, that was before you were an internet phenomenon. A couple of them specifically wanted photographs of you three."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sent a glare at John. "For God's sake!" He hissed at him, John only had a smug grin on finding this all not only humorous, but amazing.

Helena's mind just heard 'three' and stopped as Sherlock walked into a room to his right. "Whoa, wait three?"

John and Greg paused turning to her. "Yea, they want 'The Hawk' as well." He chuckled.

Helena for once now glared John. "I'm actually in agreement with Sherlock. Pardon me." With that she speed off in the other direction.

Before a word to her could be said, "John." a hat was tossed to him. "Cover your face and walk fast." He ordered with a funny hat he himself picked out and continued a bit faster. John sighed as Sherlock seemed to not find this as amusing as he did, and apparently no longer Helena.

"Still," Greg spoke up as they took one like turn to the opened doors. "it's good for a public image, a big case like this."

Sherlock's sighed again, did no one but Helena understand? "I'm a private detective." He tightly pulled the hat over his head, John doing the same. "The last thing I need is a public image." Once the people spotted the two, Sherlock flapped up his coat to try and hid his face the best he could with the collar.

John did little to hide his face like Sherlock, not minding the photos at all so long as he didn't become blind. Thinking they'd never to get to the cab, attention was released when one man yelled, "It's Hawk!"

Flashes then were scent to the sky to try and capture the running woman who made the escape on the roof, but failed to get down thanks to the exit to the ladder crowded. No other choice, she made her exit to the other end, to the fire escape as photographers tried their best to get all three. One was lucky to get Sherlock and John with Helena's blurred body sprinting in the background. One clear photo of the three was caught when she joined them to get to the cab, not trusting her sight as the flashes temporarily blinded her, forcing her to join the two much to her dismay.

* * *

"Aren't these names just a bit uncreative?" Lotte asked looking over to Curtis as the teens looked over a newspaper outside a fish and chip shop. As she looked it over, Curtis held the wrappings of their lunch looking at it with her happily munching down the chips.

After the incident, Curtis soon returned to school and Lotte kept by his side since. She was deathly worried when she saw the news about it, and decided her friend was more important than what others had thought of her being with Curtis.

"I thought so." He agreed munching with a full mouth. "Hm! Look at page four."

She struggled with the papers but soon got to page four. ""Sherlock, John, and Hawk: Blogger Detectives." Who exactly is the Hawk?" She asked showing a photo of the three, with a near clear face of Hawk. Curtis near choked, but swallowed deeply looking more into the photo. He knew his sister was Hawkeye or The Hawk, he didn't expect them to get a solid photo of her. That auburn hair

"Hawk?" He coughed nervously, not knowing to tell her the truth or not. "W-Who knows! Y'know? She-"

"She?" Lotte raised a brow.

Curtis froze, mid talking. "Did I say 'she'? Psh, could be a he! Who knows!" He laughed mentally kicking himself for sucking at lying.

Lotte kept her suspicious look to him, giving a smirk finding him amusing at this. She folded the paper, leaning in asking, "Curtis, you know you're voice pitches higher when you lie."

"Does it?" He squeaked, feeling sweat at his brow from that he cleared his throat. "Does it?"

He backed up near a dumpster above a fire escape to the building to their right. "You can tell me, what do you know? After all, The Hawk did save you, as did The Sherlock Holmes and John Watson."

Curtis seemed to have noticed Lotte had become a fan of the trio, boy if only she knew. "What would I know from it? All she/he- _Hawk _just saved my life, just as they would for anyone. Not like I know them personally." He combed his fingers through his rough fringes.

"Hey, Curt."

"WoaaahaHOO!"Curtis jumped from his skin turning to find -speak of the devil- Helena hanging upside down from the fire escape above them. Their lunch spilled all over scatting over the cement, his scream earning a few dirty and weird looks from bystanders.

She winced at startling him. "My bad, I'll pay for a new lunch."

"You enjoyed that, and you know it." He accused with a hand at his chest trying to find his pounding heart and to calm down. His eyes went up seeing how exactly she was succeeding in her little acrobatic trick. Of course, her feet were hooked onto the railing.

Helena chuckled as her hair hung down, letting all to see her auburn shining hair. She noticed Lotte staring in shock, feeling awkward she looked to Curtis. "Umm, did I interrupt a moment for you two?" She nudged him, teasingly.

Curtis turned red and swiped at her hand. "No! In fact, you're timing couldn't be better."

"Hawk?" The looked seeing Lotte slowly breaking from her shock, her hands gripping the newspaper article tightly. "You personally know the Hawk?"

Curtis sighed looking to Helena, she shrugged and tilted her head to look upright as best she could. "The name's Helena, but that's a secret." She held a hand out, which Lotte took without hesitation "And you are?"

"L-Lotte, Curtis' friend." She stuttered out, Curtis grinned seeing her now lose a nerve.

Helena chuckled and tugged her a bit closer, "Can I trust you to keep a secret?" She nodded, Helena looked around as if she was going to tell the secret of the world. At least to her and Curtis it was. "Curtis is my brother."

Lotte was about to screech but quickly covered her mouth to prevent it so. Helena snickered while Curtis put a hand on her shoulder hoping she was breathing. "Sorry I didn't tell, if people knew I was related to her, things could get hectic."

"It's for his own safety, understand?" She asked.

Lotte gained her composure, "Oh, I understand! Don't worry, I swear to never tell a soul."

"Thanks," Helena spotted the newspaper, she noticed a photo of Sherlock. "Oh, reading the article on Sherlock and John, eh?"

Lotte smiled and nodded, Curtis took the paper. "Not just them, but you too."

She shrugged, "Usually just a small bit."

The teens looked between each other, the smile fell from the tramp's lips. "I don't like the exchange, show me." With short reluctance, the teens held the paper upside down showing her the page with her picture.

Helena took it and read on seeing the stupid names given for them on some articles. ""On the case again! Sherlock Holmes with his companion John Watson are solving the mysteries of London. Not without their infamous ex criminal-" Ex-criminal!?" The two winced at her outburst. "I was barely even a standard bloody punk!" She read on to herself, then spot the photo. ""The Hawk had tried to avoid the media with her well known roof jumping skills, but soon followed Holmes and Watson like a..._lost bird_!?""

Lotte had inwardly wished to have crumbled the paper up seeing the red boil in Helena's face- or was that from being upside down for so long. "Helena, it's just written by stupid people with-"

"Is that how I'll be described as? A lost bird flocking to the owner?" A cell phone tone rang off, Helena went to her jacket getting her phone out of her bra, seeing the number a sneer stretched her lips. "Hello?"

"Hawk, I need you to come by Baker Street." Sherlock informed.

She swung herself up, climbing over the railing. "Oh, you do?" She asked masking her anger. "Is John there by any chance?"

"Of course he's here. He's helping-"

"On my way!" She hung up and made her way up the steps to the roof.

"W-Where are you going?" Curtis called seeing her making her leave.

"Why, to flock to my owner, of course!" She bellowed and took her run to Baker Street.

Lotte and Curtis looked to one another, the male teen chuckled a bit before clearing his throat. "So, that's my sister.. Umm, ice cream?"

* * *

"There's no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven. We agreed. Now, go back. Show me the grass."

"When did we agree that?"

"We agreed yesterday. Stop!"

Helena had just gotten through Sherlock's open window, mug there in wait for her. Though not up for tea right now, she moved it to the kitchen and peeked in seeing Sherlock… Wrapped in his bed sheet at the dining table with his laptop. She frowned, not even trying to figure out what he was doing. Her eyes scanned the room looking for John, but only found a plump man sitting there watching Sherlock. He seemed to have just seen a ghost or was recovering from a nightmare, that could be the current client.

"Closer." Sherlock ordered at the laptop leaning in at the screen. Helena leaned to the side to see what he was looking at; at first it was some mud and grass, but then it flipped and there she saw John on the screen.

"I wasn't even home yesterday. I was in Dublin." He informed not remembering Sherlock mention this agreement at all when he got back this morning.

Helena could now strangle the possibly naked detective, now both men were to feel her wrath. She leaned against the door frame with arms crossed, ready for either him or John to notice if he could see at the laptop's angle. "Well, it's hardly _my _fault you weren't listening." A door bell rang, Sherlock turned and angrily yelled, "Shut up!" and spotted Helena. "Ah, there she is. A but late, but I'm sure you took your time."

Sherlock turned back as Helena approached and hunched over seeing John who sighed. "You could've dressed more pleasantly if Helena was going to be there."

Sherlock shook his head taking his cup to sip. "She doesn't mind, do you?"

"I'm just going to ask what I was needed for and why I shouldn't be strangling you with that bed sheet right now?" She asked with a glare between the two.

"I could answer." Sherlock told putting the cup down not finding her threat all that important. "But, we have a murder on our hands. Once John gives me a proper look at the scene."

"D'you just carry on talking when I'm away?" He asks squinting at the camera.

Sherlock shrugged. "I don't know. How often are you away?" John choose not to answer that. "Now, show me the car that backfired."

With a sigh, John stood from his crouching position and turned the laptop to a upper hill where some cars were including the client's vehicle. The swaying indicated that John was walking toward the location. "That's the one that made the noise, yes?"

Helena kept quiet, she never got an answer when questioning so may as well just act like she was there from the start. The laptop spun back to John as he continued walking. "Yeah. And if you're thinking gunshot, there wasn't one." Sherlock leaned back with his fingers over his upper lip in thought. "He wasn't shot; he was killed by a single blow to the back of the head from a blunt instrument which then magically disappeared along with the killer. That's gotta be an eight at least." John explained sounding tired from all the walking carrying the laptop.

Helena understood as to why now the case was taken, but she agreed. This seemed to be up Sherlock's interest alley. She also took noticed Lestrade wasn't there, a different D.I. present with John. Hopefully not another Dimmock.

"You've got two more minutes, then I want to know more about the driver." Said the man.

"Oh forget him." He waved his hand at the mention. "He's an idiot. Why else would he think himself as a suspect?"

The man leaned into the camera, "_I_ think he's a suspect!"

Helena chuckled, leaning in as well. "Um, I wouldn't-"

"Pass me over." Sherlock growled.

"Here we go." Helena stood straight and then crouched finding this a strain in the back to hunch so much.

"All right, but there's a mute button and I _will_ use it." John threatened and attempted to get the laptop to face the Inspector only to have the camera too low.

"Up a bit!" He barked, Helena ducked her head to keep from snickering at Sherlock's irritation. "I'm not talking from down here!"

The sound of 'take it' is given and the laptop was passed over to the equally irritated officer. Her head comes back up seeing John off the screen. Once Sherlock is able to get a clear look of the man, he starts off. "Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness, why would he then call the police and consult a detective? Fair play?"

"He's trying to be clever." The man excused. "It's over-confidence."

Sherlock dropped his head glancing at Helena who who shook her head back at him with a smile. Clearly, he wanted to go off and she was ready for it. He looked back up, "Did you _see_ him? Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own, the right sleeve of an internet porn addict and the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition. Low self-esteem, tiny IQ and a limited life expectancy – and you think he's an audacious criminal mastermind?!" He laughed at the end then turned to him. "Don't worry this just stupid."

Helena glanced to him, "What did you say? Heart what?" Poor man. She looked back to the camera.

"Go to the stream." He calmly told.

"What's in the stream?" He asked.

"Go and see."

"I would listen to him, sir." Helena suggested as the camera went back to John, assuming the man was following Sherlock's orders. "Promise to inform me John- now."

"Sherlock!" Called Mrs. Hudson as she came up with two men behind her in suits. Sherlock laned in his chair letting Helena at the laptop, legs crossing under the sheet. "You weren't answering your doorbell!" She scolded.

Helena turned and felt spooked by the sudden company. "His room's through the back. Get him some clothes." The darker skinned man told the paler one. Who were they? Why were these men here?

"Who the hell are you?" Sherlock questioned.

The one man reached over to the laptop, Helena moved away from the man behind Sherlock. "Sorry, Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Shaw. You're coming with us."

"Sherlock, what's going on? What's happening? Helena?" He closed the lid down on the laptop, only hearing John's calls of alarms being cut off.

The other man returned with Sherlock's clothing neatly folded with his shoes on top. The detective shrugged not really all that enthusiastic to getting dressed. The darker man, Plummer, stood behind beside Helena not to her best comfort. Her hand gripped the chair Sherlock sat in looking between the men.

"Please, Mr. Holmes. Where you're going, you'll want to be dressed." He informed.

Sherlock glanced over to the man behind him, giving a full deduction of the man within no more than a mere few seconds. "Where exactly is that?" Helena questioned keeping a hard stare at them.

"Don't worry, Helena." Sherlock assured softly, she looked down to him as he smirked. "I know exactly where we're going."

* * *

**Thank you WRose, Sae-san, RedPanda31, Macbabe01, luna lily moon, for the favorites and follows for the story!**

**WRose- I shall bring more!**

**Yay! I finally made it to Scandal in Belgravia! Sorry if I rushed the whole Curtis and Helena thing. I couldn't keep it going any longer or else I would never make it to this episode. So, how would Helena handle the case with Irene? Most of all, how will she handle Sherlock's sudden 'infatuation' of The Woman? Remember to Review!**


	23. Chapter 23

Out of all the places in London to find themselves, _this_ was the last place Helena would ever think. A tramp like her a palace like this, made her ponder why they'd trust a pick pocketing street urchin like herself in Buckingham Palace.

Sitting next to the sheet draped detective, her legs were crossed in a polite manner but her eyes soared about the interior of the room. The chandeliers crystal made her eyes near bug out of their sockets, just one piece would be enough for her. She had been wandering around the room, but every time she found something worth taking Sherlock told her "Don't touch." as if a mother scolding a child. She got sick of it and took her seat beside Sherlock awaiting for… whatever it was they were waiting for.

"Did the Queen herself call on us?" She asked as Sherlock kept the sheet tightly around him, she had already discovered he was nude underneath seeing no outline of undergarments with the sheet tightly around him.

Sherlock only shrugged, she drummed her hands against the edge of the chair showing her nerves were starting to rack up. He had assured her there was no arrest to them, seeing how she was keeping her distance when the suited men arrived. But, she still had a small fear in the back of her head that some sort of punishment were to arrive.

"Nothing wrong happened, so no need to think that." He told her.

She spun to him. "How are you so sure? It's not often the Queen just calls whoever to the Palace unless something is up." Helena sighed looking around then leaned to Sherlock who kept still. "Are you to be knighted?"

This made the man scoffed, turning to her. "The threat of that has been sent before, my dear brother wouldn't force such a heavy burden on me."

Helena leaned back raising a brow at him. There were times she understand the Holmes brothers, this wasn't one of them.

The silence returned only for a little while until their dear friend John Watson arrived to join them. He seemed just as dumbfounded as Helena when she first arrived. Though when he gestured a 'what the hell' with opened arms and a shake of his head, she couldn't tell if it was their summons here or the fact Sherlock was _still_ in his sheet. Though the detective responded with a shrug of 'who knows' before looking away. Helena gave a hands up in surrender not knowing herself, so he was even more confused to them being there. He nodded, despite not getting an answer. The doctor slowly walked over, while taking his view of the place himself, and joined them sitting to the right of Helena as she contently sat between the men. The silence stayed as John looked left and right of the open rooms expecting someone to see them, clearly they were all here and it was now a waiting game for the three.

Helena took noticed of John peeking to her and Sherlock, he noticed the sheet and leaned his head back to confirm something to himself. Brows knotted, he looked to her then away asking. "Are you wearing any pants?"

"Hm-no." Sherlock answered.

John nodded. "Okay."

Sooner or later, the three make eye contact, the tension gets to them causing the three to burst out in laughter. John was trying hard not to resort to giggling, Sherlock chuckled deeply grinning like a cat, and Helena hung her head snickering to keep a snort from coming on hands on her face. Getting their act together, Helena shot her head back fixing her hair and leaning back with a sigh and cough.

"At Buckingham Palace, fine." John gestured around him, he clamped his legs sighing to contain himself as Sherlock silently giggled to himself. "Oh, I'm seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray."

Helena jumped at that patting John's shoulder. "Right!?" John smirked at her as she turned to Sherlock who chuckled once more at that. "I'm not the only one who wanted to, Sherlock." He grinned at her excitement as her eyes sparkled wishing to do the deed.

The doctor shook his head, took a deep breath and cleared his throat as Sherlock tried to cut his again. "What are we doing here, Sherlock? Seriously, what?"

"I don't know." He told smile still there.

John looked over, "Here to see the Queen?"

Helena shrugged as Sherlock said, "Oh, apparently yes."

This caused the men to throw himself into another laughing fit, Helena turned finding Mycroft at the end of the room. Her hand slapped over her mouth wanting to laugh so God bloody damn hard. Her shoulders shuddered to keep the laughter in, hiding her face in Sherlock's sheeted shoulder to keep herself from bursting was all she could think to do.

Mycroft Holmes was anything but amused, bringing them to the Palace he thought would make things go smoother. He thought wrong, it seemed. Even the serious John Watson was finding this as funny as Sherlock himself.

"Just once can you three behave like grown-ups?" He questioned sauntering into the room.

The men calmed down, Helena lifted her head from Sherlock's shoulder, hoping not to have anything of her working for Mycroft revealed. Was that why she was there? That's the only outcome she could think of. As far as she knew, John and Sherlock know she's met Mycroft before one or two times. But working for him, clueless to the duo. John was the first to respond to the elder Holmes' question.

"We solve crimes, I blog about it, she's an ex criminal, and he forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope." John informed.

Sherlock looked up now serious gained back to his features. "I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "What, the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious, surely?"

"Transparent." Sherlock replied.

John and Helena looked up, wasn't Sherlock not so interested in this case? Had he known the cause of death already? To think the two were used to Sherlock quickly figuring a case that fast, but something just startled the two but couldn't question it.

"Time to move on then." Mycroft picked up Sherlock's clothing and held it out to him. The growing immature younger brother didn't even flinch to look at them. Mycroft sighed to keep his composure. "We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation." He sternly added, "Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on."

"What for?" Sherlock retorted, Helena bit her lip finding this a bit entertaining.

"Your client."

Sherlock stood at this, "And my client is?"

"Illustrious" All heads turned to their right as a suited man entered the room, Mycroft placed the clothing onto the chair across. "in the extreme." John stood up, Helena followed in suit not knowing the customs fully. "And remaining -I have to inform you- entirely anonymous." He gave the trio a look over before smiling to the elder Holmes. "Mycroft!"

"Harry." He greeted as the two shook hands with a smile. "May I just apologize for the state of my little brother… and his pet?"

Helena frowned looking over herself, she actually cleaned herself well today. She sent a glare over to him knowing that was a jab to her on purpose, though she wasn't the only one to do so.

"Full-time occupation, I imagine." Harry excused to earn a scowl from said little brother. "I wouldn't be as to call Ms. Shaw a pet, Mycroft." He smiled to Helena and held a hand out to shake. She looked down and shook his hand quickly. "The map of London, and skill to climb even the tallest tower. Mycroft has told me about your skills."

Helena chuckled nervously tucking hair behind her ear, "I'm honestly surprised Mycroft let a stray like me even near here."

"Mycroft only allows those he knows is good enough for the job, and you've proven to him well enough." He praised.

Mycroft nodded,"It is all well that she is good for, now isn't it?" Her teeth gritting behind her tight smile as John looked to her confused to what he meant. Her eyes closed looking away, restraining herself from throwing one of Sherlock's shoes at Mycroft. He was _really_ pushing his luck.

His attention went to John. "And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

"Hello, yes." John smiled as the two shook hands as well.

"My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog." Harry praised.

He looked surprised by this notion. "Your employer?"

"Particularly enjoyed the one about the aluminum crutch."

"Thank you!" He rounded Sherlock with a smug look, proof his blog was as well liked as he claimed.

Harry rounded the table to approach Sherlock who still pouted. "And Mr. Holmes the younger." He looked him over, commenting. "You look taller in your photographs."

"I take the precaution of a good coat and short friends." John looked offended by that notion. The tall man walked past said short friends to his brother. "Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at _one_ end of my cases. Both ends is too much work." He turned quickly with a, "Good morning." And went to make his leave.

Though it was short lived as Mycroft stepped on the end of the sheet snagging it, resulting in the material to fall down Sherlock's arms and just about nearly fell down his waist. He caught it just before it came off, pausing his leave. John jumped a bit thinking he'd have to grab the sheet to keep his flatmate covered once his backside flash out a bit. The only female in the room was too focused staring to say a word or even think to help cover Sherlock's body. She wasn't one to grow red, she's seen the top part, but bottom was new to her.

"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up!" Mycroft hissed."

"Get off my sheet!" Sherlock demanded.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll just walk away." He told confidently.

"I'll let you." Helena bit her knuckle curious how far this brother quarrel could go.

John finally stepped in, "Boys, please. Not here."

Sherlock was now in rage as he questioned, "Who. Is. My. _Client_?"

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction." Mycroft suggested. "You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now _for God's sake_-" He turned to keep his anger in check, and turned back with one last chance of demand. "Put your clothes on!"

Helena sneaked over by Harry to Sherlock's clothing, feeling this wouldn't go anywhere with constant yelling between brothers. She picked them up, as the men watched her pass John and walk to Sherlock showing the clothing he was to wear. She smiled innocently at him, as he was trying not to boil over. Closing his eyes, he suck in some air and looked down to her deciding to give in nodding to her.

She motioned for Mycroft to let the sheet go, he did so as she carry his clothing for him to go change. "There we see another job only for her to accomplish." Helena paused at Mycroft's comment, she bit her lip as hard as possible and continued following Sherlock around the corner a room to change into.

She waited outside room she guessed to be a bathroom or maybe just some empty room he found worth changing in. Her eyes peeled about, nothing in the hallway worth taking, sadly. The door squeaked open, gaining her attention as Sherlock now came out dressed buttoning his shirt, blazer hung over his arm. He still look unsatisfied.

"Where's the sheet?" She asked finding it not anywhere on or near his person.

"No concern of it," He told bluntly throwing his blazer on, blacking matching is black dress shirt. She nodded ready to return with the others. "It's not true."

She looked up to him, knotted brows. "What's not?"

"I don't keep you around just for work or for usefulness." He fixed his cuffs glancing to her, "I enjoy your company." He gave a soft smile and made his lead back to the room.

Helena watched him, feeling warmth in her from his assurance. She always thought he'd only call her if she was favorable for a case, as she always questioned what her need was for each one. Seemed his excuses made sense or why he never fully explained the case. He just, liked her around. A smile graced her lips as she jogged to catch up with Sherlock, he looked to her seeing her smile. The same warmth she felt was in him seeing her cheer up from Mycroft's verbal abuse.

"Well," She cleared her throat. "If that's true, then I enjoy your company too. I mean, I don't show it. But my life has gotten more excited since we met."

Sherlock nodded. "I know by the way." He added.

"Know what?" She asked.

"Oh, the whole you working for Mycroft and giving him information. You made it a bit obvious with the constant texting, meetings with him, and the fact I keep track of all messages to your phone." He explained.

Her jaw dropped, "So, you knew from the beginning?"

"Yup." He popped as they made a turn. "You defended on how he keeps an eye out just as you did for Curtis. Of course you agreed with him on terms."

She nodded with a gulp feeling her throat become parch all of a sudden. "I didn't mean to hide-"

"Doesn't matter if you do, John was asked the same and a bit disappointed in his answer." He assured.

"Yea, John told me. W-Why disappointed?" She asked.

Sherlock shrugged, "Could've split the money." he looked down to her in expectation, she chuckled at his answer resting her wrist to her mouth not wanting to be too loud.

Once they returned, tea was now placed on the table and everyone had taken their seats. Much to her relief, Mycroft gave no comment as she and Sherlock sat down. The scowl returning to his features as Mycroft started to pour the tea, with a smile he said, "I'll be mother."

"And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell." Sherlock commented.

Didn't last long, Helena thought. Mycroft gave a warning look and put the teapot down leaning back in his seat. "My employer has a problem." Harry told.

"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen." Mycroft added.

"Why?" He inquired. "You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?"

"People do come to you for help, don't they, Mr. Holmes?" Harry asked.

Sherlock hmmed shortly in thought. "Not, to date, anyone with the Navy." John nodded softly at that.

Mycroft tried to convince him. "This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore of trust."

"You don't trust your own secret service." John asked.

"Naturally not." Mycroft answered. "They all spy on people for money." He sent a look to Helena, another jab. John bit back a smile as Helena rolled her eyes at him.

"I do think we have a timetable." Harry said to the elder Holmes.

"Yes, of course." He opened a briefcase that sat beside him, taking out photographs and handed them to his brother. "What do you know about this woman?"

John took a cup to drink some of the tea finding it cool enough sip, Sherlock sat up looking over the photo of a brunette woman. Helena leaned over to get a cup for herself, peeking at the photo. Her brows lowered, she was fairly good looking- would take the word gorgeous for sure.

"Nothing what's so ever." He answered.

"Then you should be paying more attention." Mycroft told.

Helena glanced to him then looking back to the table adding cream as a replacement for milk. It would do, she sipped it biting back an urge to frown. Sadly not as good as Sherlock's. "What's so important about her?" She asked him.

"She's been at the center of two political scandals in the last year, and ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately."

Helena scoffed. "Sounds like to me she isn't the one at fault, all these people gladly participated with no regrets." She teased, almost making John choke on his tea.

Mycroft's jaw clenched at her words. "You know I don't concern myself with trivia." Sherlock told not getting anything from the photo, but showed the two as John couldn't see it completely from his position. "Who is she?"

"Irene Adler," He told. "professionally known as The Woman."

"Professionally?" John asks.

"There are many names for what she does. She prefers 'Dominatrix'." Helena perked at that name, Sherlock repeated the word to himself. "Don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex." Mycroft teased.

"Sex doesn't alarm me." He quickly defended.

The brother sneered, "How would you know?"

Sherlock looked up staring at his brother, Helena noticed the look.. Seemed that got to him more then anything Mycroft has said so far.

"She provides -shall we say- recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it."

"You mean BDSM?" Helena asked putting her cup down, glancing around she noticed John, Harry, and Sherlock looked to her a bit surprised she said it, or knew what it was. John's jaw was ajar, Sherlock's frown tight, and Harry not expecting the 'lady' to just come right out and say it. "..What?"

Mycroft cleared his throat, "These are all from her website." handing more photos to Sherlock.

John and Helena leaned to see them; first one had her with a chain titled 'The Woman Enter', first page when entering her site. Sherlock took his time with each photo, they all looked professionally made with her wearing very revealing outfits but still hid the confidential. The photos were looked through more quickly, not bothering to read the text on them.

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs." Sherlock guessed, John sipped his tea but paused to leer at one photo he saw.

"You're very quick, Mr. Holmes." Harry praised.

Sherlock looked to him, "Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?"

At that question, the two men looked to each other. Helena leaned forward as Harry said, "A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say any more at this time."

"You can't tell us anything?" John asked.

"At least give us an age, gender, looks. No need for a name." Helena told them. "Sherlock's gonna find out sooner or later." She grinned at the end earning a look from Mycroft.

Harry felt not to say anything, thinking on her words. But Mycroft sighed giving in. "I can tell you it's a young person. A young _female_ person."

John paused his drinking at that, Helena nodded while Sherlock smirked at the revealed gender. The men seemed near, ashamed at this revelation.

"How many photographs?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft answered, "A considerable number, apparently." Helena took the photos and looked them over herself to memorize the woman's face. Never know if she might hide herself with some disguise.

"Do Miss Adler and this Young female person appear in these photographs together?"

"Yes, they do."

"And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios."

"An imaginative range, we are assured." Mycroft told.

Helena put the photos down and looked over noticed John was a bit frozen with his cup mid air. "John, might want to put the cup back in your saucer now and Helena return the photos." John and she did as told, handing the photos back to Harry.

"Can you help us, Mr. Holmes?"

"How?"

"Will you take the case?"

Helena frowned, "What case?" Sherlock asked.

"It sounds like to be all you have to do is go by her demands if you're really desperate to not let these photos out to the world." She told agreeing with Sherlock. "To be honest, should've been more careful and it's time to bite the bullet."

"Helena.." John sighed knowing how she could let her mouth run not caring what came out.

"Exactly the point." Sherlock nodded, "Pay her, now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, "Know when you are beaten."." He turned to get his coat ready to take his leave.

"She doesn't want anything." This paused the three from making any move to get up, Sherlock turned back to his brother.

"..Not even money?" Helena questioned.

Mycroft shook his head. "She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favor."

"But, what could she gain if it's not real blackmailing. I mean," She paused, trying to figure this out.

"Oh," Sherlock grinned. "Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that _is_ a dominatrix. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?" He finally was getting that interested glee look in his eye again.

Mycroft turned his head, hoping he wouldn't act this way. "Sherlock…" John muttered.

Helena quickly turned to him as Sherlock asked for her location. "Would you rather him back in the bed sheet saying 'bored' like a broken record?" John rolled his eyes at her, she wasn't wrong. He just didn't find it right for him to get excited over cases like that.

Without warning, Sherlock stood with his coat in his hands passing his companions. "Text Helena the details, she can get me the location faster and I'll be in touch by the end of the day."

John and Helena hurried to their feet as did Harry and Mycroft. "Do you really think you'll have news by then?" Harry asked.

Sherlock stopped his leave and turned to him. "No, I think I'll have the photographs." He told confidently.

He approached the tall detective as John and Helena stood by. "One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think."

Sherlock eyed the man deducting just as quickly as he did back at the flat. Helena was about to speak, but Sherlock spoke. "I'll need some equipment, of course." He told his brother.

"Anything you require. I'll have it sent to-"

"Can I have a box of matches?" He asks Harry.

The man frowns by his favor. "I'm sorry?"

"Or your lighter. Either will do." Sherlock holds his hand out waiting for said items.

"I don't smoke." He defends.

"No, I know _you_ don't, but you're employer does."

Helena bites her lip, she knew Sherlock would find out the person sooner or later. She mouthed a 'told you so' to the man. He eyed her then Sherlock taking a lighter out. "We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr. Holmes."

"I'm not the commonwealth." He assured taking the lighter and pocketing it. Helena pondered what the lighter would be for, she has matches on her constantly. Maybe just to mess with the men for his own enjoyment.

"And that's as modest as he gets." John told as Sherlock turned away nodding Helena to follow. "Pleasure to meet you."

John turned to follow as Sherlock called out a, "La'ers!" and turned the corner. Helena coughed to cover her laughter, John turned to the men apologetically and quickly followed the detective and tramp.

* * *

In a cab, Helena was directing the cab back to Baker Street. She spun back facing the men across from her, as John spoke. "Okay, the smoking." He turned to him. "How did you know?"

With a brief smile, he shook his head. "The evidence was right under your nose, John." He looked over. "As ever, you see but don't observe."

"Observe what?"

Sherlock reached into his coat, but frowned. Helena reached into her own and pulled out the glass ashtray sending a wink. John looked between the two, Sherlock only smirked at her. "The ashtray."

She tossed it to Sherlock who easily caught it, John chuckled remembering him saying about taking an ashtray. He chuckled with him, Helena joined shaking her head. It wasn't hard to loot that out of his coat.

* * *

At the flat, the boys got out of the cab with Helena following. As she was about to follow them inside, Sherlock stood in front of the door stopping her after John had entered."I need you to scope out ahead the location of Miss Adler. Text me the directions, and stay hidden. Once you've got a good eye on her place, walk a few streets down to meet us." He instructed, "Oh, and take this." and handed a small plastic box.

She looked to see what he handed her, with a displeased look seeing the contents inside, she raised a brow at him. "Make up?"

"Yes, just added a bit of purple in there if you can for added effect. You know what to do." He shut the door leaving the tramp a tad clueless.

She took a step back, paused, then made her down down the street pocketing the case. At first she didn't understand his intent, but thinking his words over, Helena figured it out. "Wish he would've told me where to place it." She complained, and darted into a full run to Eaton Square.

* * *

John took his coat off as he waited for Sherlock and Helena to join upstairs. Though, he only heard one pair of footsteps ascend, he peeked around the kitchen seeing Sherlock rush into his room removing his scarf and coat. Looking down the stairs, no sign of her. "Where's Helena?" He asked hearing Sherlock opened his dresser.

"Went ahead, she'll text me her directions then we make leave." He called as a jacket or two went flying across the room.

"Ah," John sat down at the table checking over the mail he missed that day. He continued to hear the sound of clothing being thrown, smacking the door then thumping to the ground. This went on for a bit, raising his head he finally asked, "What are you doing?"

"Going into battle, John." He told as John looked over his shoulder. "I need the right armor." He popped out in a long yellow hi-vis jacket usually worn by police. Without a second thought, "No." He walked back in and chucked it right off.

* * *

"Fourty-two, Fourty-three… Fourty-four." Not pausing in her stroll, she just looked over the building. Connected to others, too risky to scale, and she wouldn't be able to get around without possible suspicion. White building with no doubt well done security. The pillars looked unclimbable, canceling her idea of getting through the top window. Helena continued her walk a bit troubled, she felt blind not knowing the outs of the place. She hopes to get the ins of it once the boys arrive.

Stopping at a street two down from where Irene was, Helena sat down at a concrete step against a building and got the make up kit out. She got to work on making a bruise on her temple and a bit over her cheek. Thinking how to have herself look hit, sure she could just actually hurt herself to make it look real. Helena paused, the makeup might not be good enough. She stood looking around her, time to be resourceful.

* * *

Sooner than later, John and Sherlock were making their way, Sherlock kept his eye out the window as the cab driver followed the directions Helena had sent the detective. John was once again, out of the loop of what was to come.

"What's the plan?" he asked.

"We know her address." Sherlock told looking around the streets.

John looked to him. "What, just ring the doorbell?"

"Exactly. Just here, please." He quickly told the driver pointing down one spotting the red hair.

John looked him up and down. "You didn't even change your clothes."

"Then it's time to add a splash of color."

The cab driver pulled over, the men got out quickly paying him and made their down a narrow street where Helena was looking over her new facial work in the compact mirror. She looked up seeing the men as Sherlock snagged the scarf off him tossing it to her. "Nice work." He approved.

"My best yet," She grinned resisting to wince, standing.

Sherlock watched her as he spun around to face John who looked about. He noticed the bruises on Helena's right jawline and cheek and walked over. "Jesus, how'd that happen?" He asked wishing to examine it.

She waved him off holding the scarf. "Just a bit of make up." She assured showing the kit Sherlock gave her before pocketing it.

He sighed and turned to Sherlock. "Are we here?"

"Two streets away, but this'll do." The tall man looked like he was bracing for something stiffing his stature.

He almost didn't want to ask, but, "For what?"

With an indication to the left of his face, "Punch me in the face." Sherlock ordered him.

John blinked in astonishment, not believing what he had heard. Helena looked up from looping the scarf around her neck, glancing between the two. "Punch you?"

Sherlock hated to repeat, adding insistence to his words. "Yes. Punch me, in the face." He motioned again. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I did." Helena spoke up with a hand raised gladly to take John's spot, earning a look from the detective.

He looked to her then to Sherlock, full hesitance to do the deed. "I _always _hear 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually sub-text."

With agitation, "Oh, for God's sakes." Sherlock swung his fist at John earning a grunt from the man and a gasp from Helena. He shook his hand out, and let out a breath ready to brace for the impact.

"I don't think that was the best metho-" John quickly punched him back much harder knocking the tall man to the ground. She noticed the cut on his cheek to her amazed and went over to help him up. "Happy now?"

He gave a small groan getting to his feet, hands to his new wound. "Yes" he answered her. John shook his hand out flexing his fingers hissing the short pain out. "Thank you. That was- that was.."

Not yet done, John tackles Sherlock making sure to throw another punch somewhere in the abdomen. Helena stepped back not wanting to be dragged down with them. Watching the men wrestle, Helena kept moving to get space so she wouldn't get involved. She looked around seeing if anyone was staring at this childish manner. Teeth softly grinding against one another uncertain to stop or let the folly continue, John now holding Sherlock in an impressive headlock while he was down.

"Okay!" Sherlock choked out. "I think we're done now, John!"

John's real anger was truly seething out. "You wanna remember Sherlock. I was a soldier. I killed people."

"You were a doctor!" He called out.

"_I had bad days!"_

"Lord.." She groaned pinching her cheeks thinking how to stop this madness before they forgot the reason they were there. Or before John puts Sherlock in a possible comma. "John, John!" Helena dove in taking the doctor's arm and prying it from Sherlock's neck. "If you don't stop, I'll have no choice but to add you to our injured list."

John eventually let his friend go giving him a shove stepping back. Sherlock coughed hunching a bit before quickly straightening up in case John went to round two. "Alright.." He exhaled to even his breathing, he buttoned the top of his shirt completely with one hand and handed Helena a thin white plastic.

She turned to John who gave even breaths himself hunching over his knees. "Got it all out of the system?" She asked.

He only nodded, finding the answer approved she turned seeing Sherlock's collar up. Assuming to do so, she leaned in wrapping the collar around his neck snapping it into place. Sherlock looked over her cheek, not pleased with her well done injury. She pulled back fixing the collar over the white.

"Catholic?" She asked looking up at him, John walked over seeing the not so big change to him.

"I was thinking for Protestant." He replied and turned pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. The two followed making their way to the forty-fourth building thanks to Helena's directions. "Be ready for tears." He informed her, she nodded as he pressed the doorbell hearing the buzzing inside.

It took a while, but enough for Helena and Sherlock to get the waterworks going before a reply was made. John took it in himself to be the bystander who watched it all, Helena nodded for John to move to her so he was out of shot from the camera.

"Hello?" Came a female voice from the intercom.

Sherlock looked right into the camera, fear and disturbance painted on his features. "Ohh! Um, sorry to disturb you." He creaked out sounding just as upset as he looked, he looked over to where the two stood then back to the camera. "Um, I've just been attacked, m-my friend and I both, um, um," He stuttered turning his head constantly as if these 'attackers' would return. "I think they ... they took our wallet and, um, and our phones. Umm, please could you help us?"

There was a slight pause in the response. "I can phone the police." She suggested.

His voice breaking at this point. "Thank you, thank you! Could you, please?" He stepped back, purposely showing the white collar. "Oh, would you ... would you mind if we just waited here, just until they come? Thank you. Thank you so much."

The camera goes off, and the door buzzes unlocking and allowing the trio in. Before entering, Helena puts John's arm around her shoulder whispering, "Play concern." Instantly inside her head was low against John indicating she was in pain and scared to the ginger haired woman.

Sherlock looked about hanker to his cheek, John closed the door behind him. Seeing Kate grow weary on John's entrance he spoke up. "I-I saw it all happen. It's okay, I'm a doctor." The woman nods. "Now, have you got a first aid kit?" He patted Helena's shoulder as she stuck close to him, Sherlock stood to the side. "She was beaten pretty bad, might have a concussion."

"In the kitchen." She told and looked to Sherlock gesturing to the open room. "Please."

"Thank you, here take a rest." John let Helena go to Sherlock as he now wrapped an arm around her helping her to the room. Sherlock expressed a thank you as well as the ginger woman lead John to the kitchen.

The room was very rich white with well decorated highly expensive items. The glass -or possible crystal- lamps light the room well without the sunlight needed. Once the coast was clear, Sherlock sat down taking Helena with him. He put the cloth down and gently took her chin facing her toward him. "What- What is it?" She asked him growing tense.

"I said to use make up, not blunt objects." He told softly, tilting her head to take a look at the bruises. "Seems no one can follow instructions."

Her tense shoulders fell with a sigh, she shoved his hand away. "You do forget what we're up against, right? I could've done that cut with make up too, but you don't see me opposing your plan."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You aren't supposed to get hurt. If I wanted you to actually bruise yourself-" He sighed and turned from her, a bit cross with her decision. "Should've let John look at it." He mumbled.

With a hissing sigh, Helena stood and sent a thin glare to him. "Fine, just to shut your mouth." She marched out of the room turning the corner.

"No, wait. Get back.." Sherlock sighed taking a look around, anger slowly changed to concern when she left the room. Now he wished Helena had stayed where she was safe with him in the room.

* * *

**Thank you Ichigo0-0Rose, Jeune Coeur, TwoHeartedMarauder, for the favorites and follows for the story!**

**I am stuck on the couch with an allergic reaction from all the dust, wood, and hair from sleeping on the floor after the bed was taken out. I can't breath well, so when my head wasn't hurting decided to write as much as I could. Tried to have Helena involved as best as I could without overthinking.**


	24. Chapter 24

"Scale a building? Sure. Break into a possible death threatening home. Go ahead. Self infliction of a small bruise or two? Will have nothing of that!" Helena grumbled by the staircase deciding not to let Sherlock win to see John. She saw a mirror across from her, turning her head she looked at the bruises she inflicted on herself. "..Maybe it was stupid. And my face does hurt."

Clacking heels caught her attention, Helena hid herself best she could against the case ducking down from the mirror. It sounded like someone coming down the stairs, slowly making their way. Maybe it was The Woman? Once the heel hit the floor, Helena held her breath ready to spot her. Her eyes widened in shock what she saw. Pale, smooth, open skin, curvy perfect body. Her jaw dropped, this was the _last_ thing Helena could ever imagine to happen. Seeing the hair and her face in the mirror, it was indeed Irene Adler. She made her way to the room Sherlock was in, should be follow in or keep to her spot? She might be able to find the photos herself if so.

"Hello. Sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name." She told making her way there.

Helena could hear Sherlock's false kind tone. "I'm so sorry. I'm…" Her heart skipped when he paused, just as Irene made it to the door way. Was he staring? Deducing? She begged him to say something.

She made her way in. "Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" Still no response from Sherlock. Helena got up quietly making her way to the wall, leaning her ear to listen. She heard the sounds of the couch cushions pressed in, still not a word from him. "There now. We're both defrocked." She felt a sweat come on, what was she doing to him!? "Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

The tramp cursed to herself, she knows. Helena knew she wasn't as foolish as Sherlock thought she'd be.

"Miss Adler, I presume." Sherlock finally spoke in his calm voice.

"Look at those cheekbones." Helena couldn't handle it, naked woman to Sherlock Holmes? Him of all people?! "I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?" The sound of a bite rang her ears.

That's it! Helena jumped right into the room, finding The Woman straddling Sherlock's lap. Her eyes widened assuming she had his shirt possibly off or planned to do some sort of torture. Her heart raced unusually as well as sweat on her brow. Sherlock noticed silent panting from her pounding heart, Irene grinned at her… the plastic in her mouth from Sherlock's collar. Her eyes kept darting between the two, not knowing what to say.

Irene removed the strip from her mouth, looking her up and down. "This must be your well renowned pet, Helena. Or is it Hawk?" That grin made her boil. "I had hoped she would be groomed and house trained before arriving. Spying around a house is a rude manner." She scolded.

Helena growled gritting her teeth, fists clenching. Already this woman was on her shit list. It was one thing when Mycroft made those jokes at her, but to go that far was beyond for Helena. "I'll show you manners-"

"Right, this should do it." The party wouldn't be complete without John Watson. He entered just the right moment; Helena ready for a fight, naked Miss Alder straddling Sherlock, and said detective.. Well, it was hard to read what he was thinking. He looked down at the bowl of water with a cloth to clean Sherlock's cut, and looked up perplexed. "I've missed something, haven't I?"

Sherlock tilted his head, were these two really thinking that way? "Please, sit down." Irene offered freeing Sherlock who adjusted his seating. "Oh, if you'd like some tea I can call the maid."

"I had some at the Palace." Sherlock assured.

"I know." She smirked taking a seat at the chair right of him, arms and legs crossed succeeding in hiding her exclusives and looking good doing it.

"Clearly." He responded lowly.

The two stared at each other, Helena gulped looking between them. Her head started to throb, what was going on? She had never seen Sherlock like this before, was he brain dead or.. hopefully trying to read her.

John looked at the three, he felt more lost than he ever had. "I had a tea, too, at the Palace, if anyone's interested." He spoke stepped up to try and break this silence, though it fell on empty ears.

Sherlock stared at her trying to seduce. But, nothing was coming up, a complete blank. Had his brain stopped working? He turned to John looking him over; two day shirt by his neckline, electric not blade over his lower face, date night by his jeans and choice of shoes. A frown was given, Sherlock's eyes moved to Helena, he usually can't get much but something had to work. Hair was last cleaned a week ago, tan on her neck but not her hands recently sat in the sun for a long period of time, nails are chipped from recent climbing today, face is clean but hasn't showered saw Curtis today.

So, his brain wasn't failing. Turning back, he tried again but as before he got nothing. Not a mark on her skin, not a lin in her face, even the make up she was wearing gave no answer; not a hint of something to help him figure her out. With narrowed eyes, she smiles knowing what he was up to, and that he was troubled by it.

"D'you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock quirked his brows for her to continue. "However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."

Sherlock started to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt, no longer needing it as such. "You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face with a bruised victim?" He asked nodding to Helena.

"No, I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, yourself." Sherlock paused at that correction. Her eyes moved to Helena making her figure go stiff. "And you? Well, you just follow along with your own touch." Clearly meaning the injuries.

Helena's boiling point was about to explode the more this woman talked. Irene leaned in not taking her eyes off the cut on Sherlock's face. "Oh, and _somebody_ loves you. Why, if _I_ had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too." Her eyes were then set to John, no way was he going to be spared.

He forced a short laugh, "Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all." He looked around, and noticed the clothing over the bowl. "A napkin." He offered.

Helena rolled her eyes at him, was he serious. "Why?" Irene asked. "Are you feeling exposed?"

Sherlock then stood making Helena step back to stand beside John, as he picked his coat him. "I don't think John knows where to look." He turned though as he offered the coat to her, refusing to look towards her again.

"No, I think he knows exactly where." She got right to her feet and passed Sherlock to stand right in front of John. He kept a serious gaze meeting her eyes trying hard not to wander any lower than her chin. "Not sure about _you_." He indicating to Sherlock taking his coat, her eyes moved to Helena who glared hard.

"If I wanted to look at naked women I'd borrow John's laptop." He told wandering across the room.

"You do borrow my laptop." John confirmed.

"I confiscate it." He corrected.

"Well, you always have her." Irene gestured to Helena slipping the coat on wrapping it around her.

She frowned at that, "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"Only a compliment." She smiled, Helena turned around wanting to punch a wall so badly. "Well, never mind. We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me – I need to know." Now that the men could look at her without accidentally wandering over, they focused as she took Sherlock's seat. "How was it done?" She asked taking her black heels off.

"What?" Sherlock questioned.

"The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?"

The trio shared confused glances, what brought this subject on? How'd she know about it or the fact he had a case on it? Sherlock folded his hands behind his back, he closed his eyes and squinted to get back to the subject. "That's not why I'm here."

"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway."

John stepped forward. "That story hasn't been on the news yet, How do you know about it?"

Irene looked to him. "I know one of the policemen- well, I know what he _likes_."

"Of course." Helena muttered crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. "Not surprised."

Sherlock side glanced Helena, John perked a bit at her words though. "Oh." He sat down beside her. "And you like policemen?"

"You're not a cop, John." Helena loudly pointed out.

Irene chuckled, "I like detective stories, _and_ detectives. Brainy's the new sexy."

"Positionofthecar-" Everyone looked to Sherlock from his fumbled words. "Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know." He paced slowly in front of the mantle, Helena shook her head at the madness in the room.

"Okay, tell me; how was he murdered?"

Sherlock felt a grasp finally. "He wasn't."

Irene was taken back by that. "You don't think he was murdered."

"I _know_ it wasn't."

"How?"

"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room. Helena perked up at the mention of that.

"Okay, but how?"

Sherlock's grin finally came to light. "So they _are_ in this room. Thank you. John, man the door. Let no one in." John noticed the look and stood, Sherlock glanced to the other female in the room. "Helena, it'd be best if you were outside with John."

She didn't understand his full plan, but with a huff she got off the wall and followed John shutting the door behind her. He watched the doctor walk over to a counter where some mail was placed. He heard her grumble picking up a magazine rolling it up. "Groomed, and mannered? House trained, ohh that-"

"Don't let it get to you." He assured getting the lighter out of his pocket Sherlock got at the Palace. "Once we get the photos we can get the hell out of here."

Helena shoved her hands in her pants pocket. "Really? Cause you seemed to be just as comfortable with her like Sherlock was."

John started to get the lighter going, he gave a side grin to her. "Never thought I'd see you jealous, Helena."

"I'm not even going to respond that stupid assumption. Who would even _want_ to do any sort of sexual act with a woman of that personality?"

He finally got the lighter lit, putting the flame against the ends of the rolled up book. "Remember what she does, people go for the stuff and go to her. Sherlock did seem pretty stunned."

Helena frowned thinking how Sherlock just stared up at her like that in wonderment. Adler had everything a perfect woman is, complete opposite of herself. Her folded her arms seeing John got the papers smoking. "I'm going to search upstairs in case that's where Kate is." She informed and made her way up feeling disgusted with herself for the first time.

The fire alarm soon set off, ear splitting ringing around the house. Helena didn't get far, without warning arms took a grip on her causing her to shriek in panic. A hand came over her mouth, she started to fight against whoever held her arms tightly behind her only to feel the grip tighten more against her to muffle a cry in pain. She saw men in suits go ahead of her, one with a gun having a silencer on it, making their way downstairs she saw John and got her mouth free in fear of him getting shot.

"John!" She barked only to have her mouth covered again.

He turned around seeing the men with her in one of their grasps. He was about to step forward seeing her trying to break free, but froze as the man in front shot the fire alarm killing it. They rushed down, one man pointed a gun right at John making him raise his hands dropping the smoking papers.

"Thank you." He muttered.

* * *

"Hands behind your head!" Demanded the one with Helena, no doubt the boss of this little group. "On the floor. Keep it still." He demanded Irene.

Irene and Sherlock obeyed as they pushed John and Helena to the ground. "Sorry, Sherlock." John muttered looking to Helena who surprisingly didn't show fear but complete rage. She raised her hands now free, Sherlock looked to her and John seeing no new injuries. Her eyes shot up to the ceiling, telling him they came from upstairs. Her breathing a bit heavier than the others, Sherlock already could tell they had manhandled her when they found her.

"Ms. Adler, on the floor." A man behind her forced her down, she complied with the gun pointed at the back of her skull along with John and Helena.

"Don't you want me on the floor too?" Sherlock asked.

"No, sir, I want you to open the safe." The man demanded pointing the gun at him.

"American. Interesting." He glanced to Irene. "Why would _you_ care?"

"Sir, the safe, _now_, please." The man known as Neilson ordered loudly.

"I don't know the code." He retorted.

"We've been listening, she said she told you."

"Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she _didn't_."

Neilson paused, clearly he had no patience for Sherlock's remarks. "I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you _didn't_, Mr Holmes."

"For God's sake." John spat. "_She's_ the one who knows the code. Ask her."

The American looked to the kneeling doctor. "Yes, sir. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman."

"Then your damn well out of luck, shitbag." Helena's regard awarded her a smack of the gun to the side of her head. She cried out in pain falling to the ground, thanks to the true blood American.

John jolted to aid her bleeding head, but the gun pressed at his head kept him from doing so. Sherlock exhaled sharply, seeing the blood on her temple as she whimpered in pain. He resisted the urge to attack the American who was too busy glaring down at her form. She opened one eye, looking up seeing everything was a blur, nothing but extreme pain was all to come to her thoughts if not too scrambled.

"Should've done that from the beginning." He looked up to Sherlock meeting the furious gaze, breathing shortly to keep calm, seeing his reaction, a sneer was given. "Mr. Archer. At the count of three, shoot Doctor Watson."

John shot up at that. "What?"

"I don't have the code." Sherlock tried to convince as the nuzzle of the gun was pressed to the back of John's neck, the gun cocked.

"One."

"I don't know the code."

"Two."

His nerves wracked as he yelled. "She didn't tell me. I don't know it!"

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now." He looked down to Helena who now barely moved, then to Sherlock indicating she would be next.

Sherlock's gaze went to Irene for any indication of it, her eyes gazed down. At that moment, it came to him.

"Three-"

"No, stop!" At that, Neilson rose his hand to stop Archor. John closed his eyes heaving a sigh.

Slowly, the detective turns to the safe, letting his mind figure the code she had given him. He put in the numbers, 3 and 2. With a pause, he then pressed 2, 4, and finally 3, 4. The deebing and sound of it unlocking, indicated it was the correct code. Irene fought back a grin, proud he had figured it out.

"Thank you Mr. Holmes. Open it please." The American told.

He twisted the knob, but glanced over his shoulder to Irene who looked down to the side. At that moment, Sherlock knew and called out. "Vatican cameos."

Everything become a blur, John knew the phrase and instantly got down as did Sherlock the second the case opened. There was a trap inside, the gun set to shoot whoever opened it went off hitting Archer in the chest, he fell to the ground instantly. Sherlock made his move to Nielsen while he was distracted, as Irene smashes her elbow into the man's groin behind her. Full anger in his attack, Sherlock got the gun from Nielson and whipped it right across his jaw insure of fracturing it at best. The second John was free, he rushed right to Helena's side. Irene got the man's gun and pointed it at him, Sherlock turned as he flipped the gun with ease, seeing she handled it just as fine as he hoped.

"D'you mind?" He asked.

"Not at all." The man was about to recover when she slammed the butt of the gun across his face, knocking him out.

Sherlock spun to take the phone when she wasn't looking, then knelt down to Helena. He gently moved her head to see if she was awake, her one eye blinked as she hissed in pain from the movement. He managed to cut the skin but it wasn't too deep, thankfully. John inspected Archer, who had no pulse. "He's dead." He informed, "Helena is still conscious, she needs to get to a hospital. She could have a concussion."

Sherlock and John helped her up as she leaned against them for support, now able to properly see as her one eye was in the carpet. "T-Than.." She mumbled lifting her head trying to clear her mind, the blow to her head hurt to open her other eye.

John helped her to the couch, letting her lay down, he got the wet cloth to clean the wound. Sherlock seeing she was alive and partly well, turned to Irene who had the gun pointing at the men.

"Thank you. You were very observant." She praised the detective.

John frowned. "Observant."

"I'm flattered." She smiled at him.

"Don't be."

"Flattered?" John still didn't understand how he knew the code.

"There'll be more of them." Sherlock jumped over Neilson's body running out. "They'll be keeping an eye on the building."

John sees Sherlock going off, "Hold it here, I'll be right back." He assured Helena who nodded holding the wet cool cloth to her head.

All she hears is John tell about calling the police and an ambulance. Then gunshots fire, she sat up at that only to regret it largely from the throbbing in her head, the cloth falling to the ground. Helena looked up seeing Irene still in the room, she goes to the safe, but freezes seeing her prized possession gone.

"Oh shut up, it's quick." She heard Sherlock say as he and John came back in. "Check the rest of the house." Returned to the room, she looked over seeing that it was he who shot the gun much to her relief. "See how they got in. Helena spotted them upstairs, must have been a way inside."

John trotted up the stairs as Sherlock real quick checked Helena who was now sitting up a bit more to her surroundings. He pocketed the gun then took the phone out that he snagged under her nose. "Well, that's the knighthood in the bag." Tossing it a bit in the air and catching it, he had won that one.

"Ah. And that's mine." She held a hand out expecting him to just hand it over.

Deciding not to, he turned the phone on seeing a security lock flash on the screen. I AM - LOCKED with four missing digits. Words or numbers, and what they could be were the next to figure out. "All the photographs are on here, I presume."

"I have copies, of course." She assured.

"No you don't. You'll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection. Unless the contents of this phone are provably unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them." He countered looking down to Helena, she kept the cloth to her head slowly getting to her feet.

Her open hand lowered. "Who said I'm selling them?"

Sherlock motioned to the dead or unconscious men around them on the floor. "Well, why would _they_ be interested? Whatever's on the phone, it's clearly not just photographs."

"You also wouldn't be as hung up about Sherlock holding your phone if you did have copies. Clearly on that phone is something you want back dearly." Helena grunted getting to her feet, still holding the balled up cloth to her cut.

"That camera phone is my life." She told thickly. "I'd die before I let you take it." Irene stepped closer holding her hand out again. "It's my protection."

"Sherlock!" Called John from upstairs.

He pulled the phone back, not planning at all to let it out of his grasp now. "It _was_." Helena stepped over the body of Archor and followed Sherlock. He rather her rest on the couch, but he'd prefer her to be with them in case more were to arrive. Irene chased after the two determined to get it back by any means. Sherlock kept a hand at Helena's back as they made their way up the stairs to the bedroom where John was. He came from checking the bathroom seeing an open window, Kate on the floor unconscious.

Must have come this way." He told them going passed Sherlock to Helena to check her cut.

"Clearly." Sherlock checked the bathroom window himself.

Irene paused in her walk seeing Kate. "It's all right. She's out cold." John assured.

"Well, God knows she's used to that." She told with little concern. "There's a back door. Better check it, Dr. Watson." Irene informed, walking over to her dresser.

John looked to Sherlock feeling hesitant, he nodded him to do so. "Sure, Helena sit here. You shouldn't be moving." He gently pushed her to sit on the bed and made his leave.

Helena hung her painful head removing the cloth, sick of the wetness on her skin. She heard Sherlock and Irene exchange words but didn't really pay attention to what about. More or less the phone. She brought her hand up wincing at the touch of her cut, a small bandage should do it. All she had to do was wait until police arrive and they can finally leave. Her focus returned suddenly when a slap rang out in the room. Helena shot up looking around seeing Irene but no Sherlock, she got to her feet walking around the bed to see Sherlock had fallen to his knees on the floor.

"Give it to me." Irene kept demanding only to get a slurred 'no' from Sherlock. What happened, a slap shouldn't have… Helena spotted the syringe on the ground, she drugged him! "Oh, for goodness' sake." She grabbed her riding crop ready to use it against him. "Drop it."

Sherlock refused to comply earning him a whip for each word she ordered. "I. Said. Drop it!" The phone cluttered to the floor as did Sherlock landing on his back. Irene went to pick it up but Helena dove right over it. "Oh, now you I didn't want to hurt." She purred.

She glared the woman refusing to move, "My brain isn't that scrambled to allow you to win." Helena growled narrowing her eyes at her.

Without hesitation Irene slapped the crop right against her head, Helena bit back the pain as she slapped again making her vision go ary. She felt her body rolled to the side, giving Irene access to the phone.

"Ah. Thank you, love." Picking it up, Helena heard beeps from the phone. "I was hoping not to resort that to you." She glanced up seeing Irene stepped around to stand over him. "Now tell that sweet little posh thing the pictures are safe with me. They're not for blackmail, just for insurance." She pocketed the phone in the coat with a grin. "Besides, I might want to see her again."

Sherlock heaved a wheezing groan turning over to try and stand. Irene pressed her bare foot against his chest pressing him back down. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no." She purred stroking the crop against his cheek. "It's been a pleasure. Don't spoil it. This is how I want you to remember me. The woman who beat you."

Helena blinked and squinted her eyes, trying to keep her mind awake. She can't fail this, they needed that phone. "Sherlo…" She groaned out lifting her head only to feel the weight bring it back down from the resonating pain. Irene stepped back looking down to her, Helena kept her eyes on the fallen detective getting to her elbows. "Make sure to rest, sweet dear." She dropped onto her stomach with a hand reaching out to Sherlock's just inches away. "Goodnight, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Keep him company, Miss Shaw."

Just as Irene was heading to the bathroom, John made it into the room just in time to find his two friends on the ground. "Jesus. What are you doing?" He knelt down seeing Helena

"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. Makes for a very unattractive corpse." She called out. "She also might need some attention."

John noticed the syringe by her on the floor, immediately he picked it over. "What's this? What have you done to them? Sherlock! Helena, don't move!"

Helena took her hand back from reaching Sherlock's placing it over her head the yelling was causing more strain. Her eyes scrunched closed tightly both hands covering her head, soon the pain was enough to make her eyes start to tear up. Her vision went out as did her consciousness only hearing John's distressed voice to the two.

* * *

"The poor deary, should she go to the hospital?" Asked a worried elder woman

"If she does, she might just jump out the window finding wires attached to her." Told a man with a dry humor. "She responded well to me and doesn't have too bad of an injury. She just needs rest and should wake up soon."

"What about Sherlock?"

"Sleeping in the room. I'll keep an eye on them."

Heels clacked the floor and faded out from her ears. Minimal noise felt the best next to the warm and comfort around her body. Where was she? Who was speaking?

"John!"

And who was yelling?

More footsteps faded away as soon as they came, feeling the numbness of slumber dissolved as she heard voices echoing somewhere. Taking a deep breath, first thing to do was to move the hands to feel around her, a wool blanket covered her but her hands were on top. Neck and head moved only to regret it as when she pressed against the pillow a sudden sting shot through the left side of her head. She gasped bringing her hands up against her forehead wanting to have it go away as fast as it came. Seething through her teeth was all she could think to excess through it. She sat up letting the blanket roll down to her lap, hanging her head trying to find a way to ease the ache.

* * *

"John!"

**THUD!**

Said man with the name opened the door finding Sherlock had fumbled onto the floor. "You okay?" He asks as Sherlock sat up frantically checking his surroundings.

"How'd I get here?"

"Well, I don't suppose you remember much. You weren't making a lot of sense." Sherlock got to his feet shaking his head trying to clear it. "Oh, and I should warn you, I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone."

He stumbled about spinning a few times. "Where is she?"

"Where's who? Helena?" John expected he'd be worried with how much he checked her when she got hit. "She's resting on the-"

"The woman. That woman." Sherlock corrected him still looking slightly panicked trumping about the room.

John watched him, confused by his meaning. Only women he thought was Helena. "What woman?"

"_The_ woman. The _woman _woman!" He barked trying to get John to know who he was talking about.

"What, Irene Adler? She got away. No one saw her." Sherlock stumbled to the open window trying to look outside as if she would be there. "She wasn't here, Sherlock." John walked over to help, but then the drugged reduced man fell to the floor searching about anywhere he could think she'd possibly hide.

"What are you- What? No, no, no, no." He looped her arms under Sherlock's hoisting him up and dropped him onto the bed, his face smashing into the pillow. "Back to bed." He threw the sheet over to try and get him back to sleep. "You'll be fine in the morning. Just sleep."

In half slur, he called over. "Of course I'll be fine. I _am_ fine. I'm absolutely fine."

"Yes, you're great." John mused. "I'll be next door with Helena if you need me."

Almost confused he asked, "Why would I need yo- Helen…" John paused at the door as Sherlock shifted to try and get back up again mumbling her name.

"No, no, get back." Seems he had just registered of what happened with Helena. "She's fine, I checked her, she's sleeping. I'll be watching her so just sleep."

Without a word seeming satisfied with his assurance, Sherlock fell back into the pillow. Without another word that might get him up again, John left the room.

* * *

"And there's number two." The same male voice returned, looking up she saw her faithful Doctor Watson. He sat down at the coffee table, "Let's see that cut." She let him tilt her head to see the side where the pain was coming from. "The bleeding stop, no stitches need. You're hair will hide it fine actually."

Once free she fixed her position tucking her legs under. "What.. happened?" She asked glancing around, noticing it was darker so night had fallen.

John folded his hands, "Well, what do you remember?"

Helena's brows creased in thought, recollecting her memory. "..I remember getting hit and blacked out now and then. Irene did something to Sherlock-" She suddenly shot up to get off the couch. "Where is he? Is he alright?" She asked frantically.

John took her by the shoulders not allowing her to her feet. "Hold on, he's alright, calm down." He hushed her gently pushing her back down. "He's sleeping it off."

"B-But I heard him yelling." She tried to look down the hall.

John gave a smile, "I promise he's fine. He just was dazed and needed to know some things. Now, lay back down, I had trouble with keeping Sherlock down already."

She slowly did as told feeling better relief laying on the pillow, shifting her shoulders. Helena was silent as John checked her dislocation and vision, all went smoothly showing her brain functions were fine.

"Are they tracking her down?" She asked him as he left right quick to get her pain pills for her head and a glass of water.

"No one has seen her." He told returning, handing her the pill. "Got away."

Helena sat up with a short grunt taking the glass as she popped the pill in, chugging the water down with it. A frown was set on her lips, "If I wasn't hit, I could've gone after her."

John took the glass, "You're blaming yourself over that, are you?"

"Who else to blame? If I hadn't shut my mouth at that American cock my head would've been in a perfect state to chase her down." She argued.

He stood walking to the kitchen, "It's no one's fault." He told sternly placing it in the sink and returning. "She had the upper hand, you tried as did Sherlock but she out smart us. You can't blame yourself for every mistake made on a case."

She sighed hanging her head, thinking poorly of herself still. "If I-"

"If you get some sleep, your mind will be clearer in the morning." He patted her knee and stood turning to click the lamp off. "I'll be upstairs if you or Sherlock need me." John looked tired, Helena imagined it was late by now watching him go up to his room.

Once she heard the door shut, Helena got to her feet, pausing to make sure John was in bed, then quietly maneuvered her way off the couch and around the table. Sure it was dark, but Helena had adjusted to the dark well with living on the streets. She maneuvered around any obstacles reaching the door and slowly shuffling down the hall. Hearing a creak in the wood, she froze; staring at the door. She held her breath, and then heard light steps in his room, he must be awake.

The steps tumbled a bit, paused, continued ending. Helena didn't dare move, she leaned against the wall by the bathroom door, now realizing what she was doing. Sherlock needed sleep, and going in there wasn't going to help or assure herself on his well being. She had done enough stupid stuff that day. No chance of her leaving, staying here the night would have to be her option. Helena slid down the wall and sat on the floor, she didn't want to move or wander back onto the couch. Huddling her legs up, she hugged them tight against her chest and rested her head -right of it of course- on her knees. It took a while, but soon, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, staring at the door where the tall dark haired man slept. With a sigh, she gave in to the slumber finding her position comfortable for the night, it wasn't the first time she had slept in such a position.

* * *

**Thank you Goddess-of-the-Forest1013, luann choi, luna lily moon, for the favorites and follows for the story!**

**Finally got done painting, now our concern is our fridge that I hope won't have to replace it. Working now so will be a bit slow with updating so apologies if the next one isn't exactly on weekly date. Plus the holidays are gonna be busy. Enjoy your Thanksgiving everyone! (in case the next one isn't out by next week)**


	25. Chapter 25

The next morning shined, a beating sun with barely any clouds out. Nice way for anyone who loves the sun to wake up on. The light glared through the windows lighting the room, a small breeze broke through one of them making the figure in the bed groan at the coldness and turn over tightening the sheets and blankets around them. With a short lunged exhale, one eye peeked about over the room. A frown came upon their lips, with a stiff neck the figure slowly sat up confusingly scanning the room. Red like hair fell around her shoulders as some short strands stuck around her face. Her head bobbed to the side feeling slight throbbing in her eye, she reached a hand up but regretted the action as it only gave a sting through her head.

"Ow.." Helena wanted pain pills, John had them. John was either in the front room or his room upstairs. Which meant she had to get up, something she didn't want to do. She groaned falling back into the soft sinking pillows. "I don't want to- Wait, I was in the hallway."

Bed, pillows, the room itself; Sherlock's room. Helena unscrambled herself out of the wrapped sheets and stumbled to her feet. She was alone in the bed, so she wasn't in there with the possibly drugged Sherlock. "..Where?" She turned to the door, swinging it open, paused and slowly closed it to see what was hanging on it behind. Sherlock's coat. From what Helena remembered Irene Adler wore that coat, and got away… with said coat.

"So, how was-"

"The photographs are perfectly safe." That was Sherlock's voice. Helena decided to leave the bedroom shutting the door silently. He sounded pretty normal, not so drugged or slurred.

"In the hands of a sex fugitive." Her feet stopped, wishing to turn back around and stay in the bed. Mycroft, of course. Taking a deep breath, she slowly continued to the front room where she saw John and Sherlock at the table one with a paper and the other with breakfast. Peeking in more, there she found Mycroft standing with that judgment… stance of his. From her eye hurting she kept it close until she got those pills to make the pain leave, only way was to make herself known.

"You may come join us, Miss Shaw, no need to hide from me." Her head hung- or Mycroft could do that job for her.

Eyes moved to the door of the stairs and hall where she slowly emerged looking around the best she could. "You're lucky my head hurts too much to make a smart remark." She retorted leaning on the frame.

He gave a short smile, tilting his head seeing the bandage on the side by her eye. "It's nice to be assured you weren't given too much brain damage, I hope."

She just gave a dirty look not wanting to talk. "John, c-can I have those.. umm-"

"Oh right!" John got up putting his breakfast down and left to the kitchen where they were kept.

Helena made her way around between the brothers- noticing Mycroft and Sherlock both watching her closely- to the last empty chair at the dining table. She sighed sitting down and placed her head onto the table gently closing her eyes.

"She's not interested in blackmail." Sherlock spoke going back to the main subject; Irene Adler. "She wants..." He paused making Helena lookup. "protection for some reason." His eyes shot to Helena but quickly to his brother. "I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?"

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs. Our hands are tied." Mycroft replied as John returned with two pills and a glass of water. Helena thanked him and gulped them down along with half the glass of water thanks to a cotton taste she wanted out of her mouth. He was about to tell her to eat first, but she didn't plan to wait.

"She'd applaud your choice of words." Sherlock commented looking back at his paper, then gave him a knowing look. "You see how this works; that camera is her 'get out of jail free' card. You have to leave her alone." He focused back to his paper. "Treat her like royalty, Mycroft."

John joined in, "Though not the way _she_ treats royalty." he grinned.

The man gave a sarcastic smile to the two, Sherlock returned it. Helena felt the kink in her neck and her back. She stretched her arms back, bending her back over the chair giving a soft groan, only to join with an orgasmic female sigh for all to hear. Helena froze eyes shooting open, John and Mycroft frowned and looked to her expecting it was her who made the noise.

"..That was _not_ me." She quickly defending fixing her sitting position hands up in defense. Helena then notice Sherlock was not surprised by the sound.

"What was that then?" John asked looking around.

Sherlock put his paper down calmly, though didn't have the right innocent look. "Text." He getting to his feet to his chair by Mycroft.

"But what was that noise?" The three knew exactly what it was, just didn't want to believe it was that.

Mycroft watches as Sherlock checked his phone, putting the subject back on a second time. "Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you send John, Helena, and I in there?" He asked reading the text.

**Good morning, Mr. Holmes**

"CIA trained killers, an excellent guess." He turned back to his seat ignoring his brother's look, picking his paper up again.

"Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft." Came John's input, Helena pointed at the bandage on her head, it was explanation enough.

"It's a disgrace," Mrs. Hudson scolded bringing a plate of breakfast for Sherlock and placing an extra one for Helena. "sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes."

He rolled his eyes, scowling. "Oh, Shut up, Mrs. Hudson."

"Mycroft!"

"Oi!"

The two men barked as Helena jumped to her feet giving a hard glare to the man. Seeing the glares from the 'little family' as he put it, with a turn of his head he repentantly said, "Apologies."

"Thank you."

"Though do in fact, shut up." Helena chucked a strawberry from her plate at his paper, though went over and hit his shoulder. He looked up only to earn a sarcastic apologetic look much like Mycroft's before covered with a frown. The sigh filled the room again making Helena roll her eyes and look out the window, how long was _this _going to last?

"Ohh. It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"I'll make sure he turns the volume down on it." She assured sending a smile to the elder woman's way.

**Feeling better?**

"There's nothing you can do and nothing she _will_ do as far as I can see." He put the phone down and continued his paper again.

"I can put maximum surveillance on her." Mycroft told.

"Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her username is, 'TheWhipHand'."

"How original." Helena commented biting into some toast.

Mycroft gave a bitter smile. "Yes." He agreed. "How amusing." His phone rang out, pulling it from his pocket he checked the number. "'Scuse me." Walking into the hall he took his phone call thought Sherlock kept an eye on him planning to hear the conversation.

John looked to the elder brother, then the phone, finally he asked. "Why does your phone make that noise?"

Helena looked up, Sherlock turned to him. "What noise?"

"_That_ noise." He nodded to it. "The one it just made."

His eyes scanned the paper, Helena was sure he wasn't reading it anymore. "It's a text alert. It means I've got a text."

Helena looked down to her lap with her own phone sending a text to get an answer for herself. Pressing the send button, her eyes went back up to Sherlock as a beep went through instead of the sigh. Sherlock looked to it, "Well, that confirms my theory."

John looked to her swallowing. "Theory?"

"That text is only alerted by one person, personalized for that one only. And for once, it wasn't me." She told resting her chin in her hand elbow on the surface. "Question is; who?"

Sherlock gave a look, she wasn't stupid- seeing the coat in his room alone gave her the answer. But her text is what earned the stare. "Hmm. So everytime they text you-" The alert gave John his answer.

"It would seem so."

Mrs. Hudson gave a disapproved sigh from the kitchen. "Could you turn that phone down a bit? At my time of life it's.." She just shook her head and returned to the room. Sherlock glanced to her then back to the paper.

The three were silent, the men reading and Helena looking out the window, quiet morning. "Hey John?" He looked up to her. "Where was his phone last we saw it?" She looked to him with raised brows, she glanced to the detective who slowly rose the article to cover his face.

This made John think, now remembering last he saw it was in the- "..Now that you mention it, who could have got hold of your phone, because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?"

"I'll leave you both to your deductions."

The two grinned at each other returning to their food. "We're not stupid, y'know." John defended.

"Where _do_ you get that idea?" Sherlock questioned.

Mycroft soon returned still on his phone. "Bond air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot." Sherlock's attention was brought back to his brother. "Talk later." He hung up and looked to his brother feeling eyes on him.

"What else does she have?" He asked.

Helena scoffed. "What doesn't she have is the question."

Mycroft gave a short glance to the tramp then to Sherlock, he folded the paper for a final time. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." He explained and got to his feet standing before his brother. "_Much_ more. Something big's coming, isn't it?"

The elder Holmes kept his adamant look upon his features, he wasn't going to break for his little brother. "Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this."

Sherlock locked a stare with him. "Oh, _will_ I?"

"Yes, Sherlock, you will." He smiled in a mocking way.

John and Helena looked to one another, sure the two had spats and such. But keeping Sherlock out of something they hadn't seen before. Helena shrugged at John, not expecting which brother will fall in. Sherlock gave a side shrug and turned away, though they knew neither had won nor lost this 'battle'. He picked up his violin and bow that rested in his chair.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend." Mycroft told.

"Do give her my love." Sherlock requested and played the tune of 'God Save the Queen'.

John smiled trying to keep himself from snickering as Sherlock followed Mycroft to the door before turning back around, his robe spun around him. Helena shook her head, hearing Mycroft tread down the stairs. The smile on her lips faded in thought, she jumped up and hurried after the brother, much to John's surprise hearing her calling his name.

* * *

"Mycroft! Will you wait?" Helena finally got to the door before he climbed into the car. He turned to her holding the umbrella tightly.

"I have only a minimal amount of time, be quick." He told her.

"Quick? Alright. I quit."

Mycroft's attention become completely on her now with those words. His brows were tight, "Quit what exactly?"

She scoffed, "You know what."

"No, I certainly don't. Do you quit being a homeless helper or being Sherlock's pet?" He asked with a smile.

Her arms crossed with a snorted laugh of sarcasm. "That reminds me of another thing." She cut the laugh giving a stare. "How did Irene get her information?"

"Helena, she's a dominatrix, surely you know she can acquire information from anyone with the right.. methods." He told.

"No, it makes no sense. She knew Sherlock which makes sense, and she had no real care or knowledge of John. But me- how did she know about me and why would she care?" Her eyes narrowed at the man, the stare down had begun. "Is _he_ involved?"

Mycroft hummed at her words. "What makes you think I would know?"

"You're the government, as Sherlock would say, you know everything." She countered.

The elder Holmes gave a thought of her accusations, and stepped forward. "This a dangerous game to play, Helena. Don't lose."

Confused by his words, none the less she nodded and Mycroft Holmes made his leave to his car. The sleek vehicle slowly joined the main road and left the tramp alone on the sidewalk. With a sigh, Helena turned to go back inside, but paused at the door. She can hear the faint sound of Sherlock's violin, Helena stepped back to look up the window seeing the detective playing said instrument by the window through back facing it. She had no means of returning to the flat, her head felt fine and would heal in no time, she could handle it fine on her own. With a breeze coming through, Helena shoved her hands into her pants pocket and made her own way down the sidewalk, to start her own 'detective' work.

* * *

Thank you moseleygab, Kuragari Sensei, TourmalineBlue, Lady Jensen, ChristinaMoriarty, cullen cult, LadyxMuderxGates, binderya22, , terriblecupcakes732, Enolaholmes14, for the favorites and follows for the story!

Guest- When I first read this I assumed it was a stab to Helena. I honestly do hope you do love her, as do others who read the story! I'll be honest, the plot your thinking is close. But I am not going in that direction! =D

I GREATELY apologize for such the long wait and also for a short chapter, but with work tiring me out, and now my sister got a puppy (and won't do 70% of the responsible work) so my free time from work when she's at school is gone. Work has caused my anxiety and stress to sky rocket more than any job I've ever had.

But yea- MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!


	26. Chapter 26

Many months had gone by since Irene Adler had entered Sherlock's life and left it in such a flash. Then returned his coat, left once more, and all to remind she was still there were texts she sent daily. The detective got these with that damned alert; he read the text, put it down, and continued with his day. John pondered if he did ever respond, Helena… She hadn't been around much as of late. Sure, she popped by to see Mrs. Hudson and to help some cases. But once it got colder, and Winter had arrived, the Tramp was nowhere to be seen.

As winter can go harsh in England, it worried John that Helena had no actual warm home to go to. She visited and spent nights at the flat before, but now she was barely seen at all. Sherlock had shown no signs of concern, which had forced John to bring the subject upon him one afternoon.

* * *

The first snowfall was falling softly down, not many people were walking on this freezing day and cars were slow and careful with it sticking to the road. John was on his laptop as usual, Sherlock watching the snow sipping his tea in his dressing gown, no plans to go out today. The doctor glanced to his flat mate seeing Sherlock's attention at the empty streets.

"So," John spoke up looking back to his laptop. "any plans for Christmas?" He asked; dumb question he thought but had to get the ball rolling.

"No." Sherlock answered.

"Oh, well how about a Christmas party here at the flat?" John looked up waiting for Sherlock to rolls his eyes or give a sigh- nothing. "We can invite Molly, Lestrade, Je-"

"Helena?"

At the mention of the name, John smiled. "Of course Helena, it'll be her first Christmas with us."

"If she spends it with us." He told lifting the cup to his lips.

John frowned at that. "Why would you say that? Helena seems to be the holiday type, unlike someone." He added under his breath.

"Helena's concern in this time of weather is her community. She'll be too busy making sure they are well warmed and taken care of." Sherlock explained turning from the window walking to the kitchen.

"Is that where she's been all this time?" He asked watching Sherlock place the mug down and sit with his microscope. The detective never responded, he might not know himself. He should his head and gave a glance out the window watching the snow for a good while.

* * *

Snow was at a halt one day, as John was off for some shopping done in favor of Mrs. Hudson. He feared her slipping on ice so he offered, Sherlock was at the flat doing what he did everyday for the past two months. With the Christmas party confirmed, he had to get drinks, foods, and some festive decor as requested by the landlady herself. John wished Sherlock would do some shopping once in awhile, but then again it'd be best with how he might get wrong stuff or just end up not getting what was needed.

While walking through the holiday shoppers, John expected to see something fly across the buildings or scale the sides. Not a single sight of her, and for all he knew she could be doing something of Sherlock's order. Usually he would worry to death and end up all for naught, stress he didn't need in his already crazy life.

Just before he walked into the market, his phone rang out. He stepped to the side, pulling it from his pants pocket seeing the number, recognizing it he gladly answered. "Hey."

"Hello, Mr. Watson."

The man chuckled, "You know you can call me by my first name, Curtis."

"Oh, of course!" He gave with that nervous chuckle, for sure he was shrugging to himself as well. "I just wanted to let you know, I sadly can't make it to the Christmas party."

John frowned folding his arm under the elbow of the arm that held the phone. "Oh, that's too bad. Family?"

"Yeah, my mum wants us to travel for the holidays." A sigh escaped. "She thinks I'll be sneaking off to see Helena."

"Well, I don't doubt that. I wouldn't want to get her on a bad side until you're set for the dorms." He assured glancing at people who entered and left the entrance to his right.

"It probably wouldn't be fun- I mean, not that it won't be a fun party!" He quickly caught himself. "What I meant is, it's full of adults, lots of drinking and all that silly stuff. Maybe I can make it for New Years."

John gave a grimace frown. "Sadly, Sherlock would allow one party in the flat, but you can come over for it. Bring Lotte over, spend time together with any parent hovering your shoulder." He teased with a grin.

"T-T-That's nice of you b-b-but there's nothing really!" He defended loudly into the phone causing John to hold it away from his ear. "What is it with you guys teasing me with her!?"

"Well, Curtis it's clear as day that you…." John's eyes locked onto bouncing locks of auburn leaving the market.

"That I what? John? You there?"

"I'll call you back."

John hung up making haste to follow the person he believed was Helena through the crowds. Wanting to make sure it was her, he quickly sent a text to her asking where she was, so it didn't seem suspicious. He kept his eyes on, her head turned down, looking to have pulled something out. The crowd cleared a bit, John saw she held a phone and got a side view, it was indeed Helena. He was lucky she didn't respond or his phone would've gone off. Question was should he approach her or follow and see where she's been all this time?

John always claimed Sherlock was the nose bag, but in reality John was the real snooper. The two just had different reasons; one to be a show off and the other for concern of friends.

The trailing lasted for a good four blocks, John started to ponder if she knew he was pursuing her. She swerved through the crowds, almost looking to be searching for someone. Assuming him, John pardoned and gently pushed his way through to get within inches of her, centimeters; finally his hand landed on her shoulder.

"Hel-"

Pain shocked through his hand when her own snatched it in a bone crushing grip. John instantly held his free hand up showing no harm as she gave a menacing glare over her shoulder. Once she saw who it was, she moved him from the crowd and let his throbbing hand go.

"Sorry, are you alright?" She asked indicating his hand.

He chuckled rubbing his hand. "I've dealt with worse."

Helena gave a lopsided grin, shoving her hands into her jacket pocket. "Tailed me for a good while, kept up well." She praised.

John looked up from his hand, he opened his mouth to ask how she knew, but like Sherlock it wasn't worth the explanation. "I haven't seen you so got worried." She gave questioning look. "Well, with the cold weather and all, I didn't know if you were taking care of the homeless or had a warm place to stay."

A shrug was given as her eyes returned to the passing people. "They shockingly survive well helping each other, I can give only so much with my position with Sherlock and you. Not to mention that blog giving me a reputation." A side glare was gifted to the doctor, a sheepish smile was returned. Her attention returned to the people, "I manage well myself, I have been here for years. I have a place to stay every winter. I can't keep bunking with you and Sherlock."

John watched her look over at the people, she still had a look of searching. "You are always welcomed at the flat, Mrs. Hudson misses your visits, as do I and Sherlock."

"Hmp, I'm sure he does." Soon a smile graced her lips. "I miss the visits too."

He turned to her, "Then come visit, we've been waiting for you to just pop through the window any day." a hand gently on her back wishing to lead her back to said place.

She nudged his hand off, smile gone. "I can't."

The man sighed, these two had a thing of being over dramatic. "Why can't you?" he thought thinking what would keep her. "It's not about the homeless?"

"Surprisingly no."

"Is it about Curtis leaving for Christmas?"

Helena shook her head, "He goes every year, Christmas alone isn't new to me. We'll try for New Year's if he returns in time."

So she did celebrate it alone. John moistened his lips, the mention of the holiday reminded him of the party. "We're having a Christmas party at the flat, you're invited."

"I can't."

The answer was so promptly, John hadn't expect it. She at times thought over her answers, but she gave a thick solid one without anything to back it up. Helena hadn't left her eyes from the crowd, she seemed tense by the way she stood beside him, and just her instant defense at his approach gave small warning bells in his head; Something was wrong.

"Is someone following you?" He asked looking around concerned.

"Vise versa."

"_You're_ following someone?" She nodded, "Who?"

Her patience came to a sudden halt as she shoved him into the nearby store, a book store. She kept by the window but also looked around the store in case. "Yes, I'm searching for someone. That's why I've been gone for a while. Happy?"

Oh, wasn't snappy Helena the best? "Who would you be following though? You're usually up on the roofs, wouldn't you get a better chance from there?"

Her brows lowered and a frown was faint. "..I can't, it's too predictable." A sigh escaped. "But God damn, it's possibly the easiest way then just walking through crowds everyday."

"But who is it you're looking for? Someone lost?"

Helena glanced to him, he hated being hide away in the dark. Sherlock did that enough to him, she shouldn't do the same. "Irene Adler."

John did a double take, why did he not see that name coming. Who else would she be searching for endlessly? …Well-

"She has to be working with Jim Moriarty." She concluded.

John leaned on a nearby book shelf as his hand combed into his short hair. The man in need of more of an explanation. "What makes you think so, Helena? Jim wanted us dead."

She jumped at that, "Yes! But, he had a phone call. Someone must have convinced him to not kill us. Not to mention what he said to Sherlock. Remember?"

How could he not, he wished he could block the whole event out of his mind as much as he willed to block his army days. "Burn his heart out."

Helena nodded sharing a intense stare with him. "He wants Sherlock to suffer."

John had a look that showed he didn't understand, scratching his brow. "Where does Irene fit in all this."

"Simple, get Sherlock to fall for a woman and take that woman away!"

"...What?" Was that even possible to happen to Sherlock? Could he instantly care for someone within a short time, considering circumstances as well. "Wait, hold on." He held a hand him then pinched the bridge of his nose thinking this over.

Helena folded her arms, John couldn't process it all she guessed. "It doesn't make as much sense now that I said it out loud, huh?"

John looked up, brows locked in thought. "It's just, that doesn't seem like him."

"Jim?"

"Sherlock; he doesn't fall in love with something so quick or- he's married to his work. Not to mention he doesn't seem to care for much people."

Helena had to argue. "Well, he clearly cares for you;" She stopped him from assuming further. "I mean, he's clearly you're friend and would risk for you as you would for him." A smile was shown. "Remember at the pool? I might not have seen his expression but you did, what did he look when he finally was able to get the bomb off you?"

John scoffed, "I get it, Helena." He nudged her shoulder earning a chuckle from her. "It's not just me though."

Helena buckled her knees out with a groan., "Oh! Don't start this again." She couldn't understand why John kept bringing this up. "No offense, but you're not the best person to play match maker."

"Taken." He started. "I've seen Sherlock with women and not once did he look at them the way he does towards you."

"I'm a worker, my mind interests him." She brushed off.

"He makes a cup of tea for you, placing it on the window for you to arrive." He argued back trying to get this to her. "Sure he did every week or when you were to visit, but he's gone to making it everyday. It's the first I've seen him not dump the milk out of the fridge to make room for his body parts."

Helena looked away, her hair falling around her. "Big deal."

John chewed his lip, finding another example. "How about when you sleep?"

She raised a brow at him. "Sleep?"

"At least nine out of ten you end up sleeping in his bed, be you sneaking in it or he puts you in it himself."

That brought her attention back, "You mean, he has put me in his bed? The whole, carrying me and tucking me in?"

"I don't know about the tucking in part." John shrugs, "I just know you sleep on the couch night before and I can hear more movement from upstairs, next morning you're in his bed."

Her cheeks grew warm making her frown deeply to make the hot feeling go away. She couldn't argue that fact he wanted her filth off the couch, his bed was more important than the couch. Thinking back, it does explain how she got from the floor to his bed the day after the Irene incident. Helena assumed because of her head injury, she had merely forgot flopping into the bed later on.

"One more point." She gave him. John smiled, was she seeing it too? "Has he actually admitted to you he feels this way about me?"

The smile fell, "What?"

Helena gave a hard look. "You know, that he likes me, has feelings, fancies- All that rubbish. Unless you actually heard him say it, how can I know it's true?"

John was a bit gaped, he assumed Helena would accept it from what she's seen him do. "Aren't actions enough?"

Helena glared him, she threw her jacket hood over her head and made her way to leave the bookshop. John went after her, "Well aren't they?" He called to her. "Actions speak louder than words."

"Yes John, and assuming actions to feelings makes an ass out of him and me." She snapped back as he sped walk to keep up. Helena held her hands out, "You can't just smash two people together," and clapped. "expecting them to become love birds."

"I don't expect it out of you, I just know there's something between you." He urged making sure not to run into on coming people. "Ever since you were arrested for that banker case, he's been cautious for you. He may not show it, but I've seen how he acts when you're not around him."

Helena didn't respond, they stopped at a crosswalk light red. "You fancy him right?"

Her expression looked as if she struggled to find the feeling. "I know the feeling of liking someone; a family member or a friend. But John," She looked to him. "I don't know how to love someone."

That caught John off guard, he felt he was talking to Sherlock at that response. The light changed and Helena went on leaving John dumbfounded.

He didn't follow after her, instead he turned making his way back to the flat deep thought on their conversation. She was searching for Irene Adler, he wondered if he should've told her about Sherlock still receiving texts from her. Halfway to the flat, John forgot to get the needed groceries at the market. The doctor trudged back.

* * *

Christmas had arrived, the snow fell beautifully onto the ground that night. Streets were bare empty, people inside with families or away on holiday. Sherlock had favored this party over visiting his parents this year, but then again he was still the sour of the party. None the less he played on his violin "We Wish You A Merry Christmas." Mrs. Hudson sat by in his armchair smiling at the music he played, moving to the window. Lestrade by the kitchen enjoying the festivities as well, John approached beer in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. John's girlfriend he invited over was holding a tray of small desserts. She didn't seem to be enjoying herself as much as the others for some reason. The room was decorated with lights around the window, mirror above the fireplace and over the mantel where cards were displayed. Even the skull 'friend' adorned a Christmas hat, John positioned to cover it entirely. The fire blazed warmly for the room, some lights were strung up in the kitchen as well and a bookshelf or two in the corner. Sherlock finished his piece earning a small applause from the three. Lestrade gave a whistle, not really hearing much of the man play the violin.

Sherlock bowed, "Lovely! Sherlock, that was lovely!" Mrs. Hudson praised smiling brightly.

"Marvelous!" John added as he passed Greg to Mrs. Hudson.

The elder woman laughed to herself. "I wish you could have worn the antlers." She held the small glass of champagne in her hand, obviously a bit tipsy.

The detective tilted his head at the notion, tapping the violin bow at his cheek. "Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs. Hudson."

"Mrs. H." John handed her the cup and took her glass away, that enough alcohol for her.

Sherlock watched on, he saw from the corner of his eye John's girlfriend approach him with a tray offering him sweets. Politely he declined with a short smile, "No thank you, Sarah."

The woman felt dejected, not by the his refusal but the fact he called her the wrong name. John instantly jumped over, "Uh, no, no, no, no, no." He put an arm around her as she attempted to turn away. "He's not good with names."

Sherlock took the challenge. "No, no, no, I can get this." She placed the tray down and folded her arms, the woman had already seen how Sherlock acts and the fact the name was gone again was surly an annoyance to her. "No, Sarah was the doctor, and then there was the one with the spots, and then the one with the nose, and then…" He paused and looked to John. "Who was after the boring teacher?"

The woman shifted between her feet, "Nobody."

A facade smile stretched his lips, "Jeanette! Ah, process of elimination." he exclaimed, feeling proud of himself.

This has been Sherlock since the the day has started. The man was snippy to deduce anyone on anything, Mrs. Hudson was spared as a promise he and John made to her. Why had be been more on the button than usual? Well, the fact he had his eyes at the open door to the steps and made his way to see out the window without looking too obvious, could be a clue. To John, everyone but two people were here. To Sherlock, everyone but one person was here. One had hoped and the other expected Helena to arrive any minute.

John lead Jeanette away to hopefully distract her from Sherlock, the said man heard footsteps up the stairs gaining his attention. But alas, it was not the woman he wanted to see. "Oh, dear Lord."

Molly Hooper struggled a bit up the stairs carrying many gift bags, coat and scarf wrapped around her body from the harsh cold outside. "Hello, everyone. Sorry, hello."

John went over with a smile helping her with the bags, Sherlock swung his bow down turning away with an annoyed sigh. "Er, it said on the door to just come up." She told hoping she wasn't intruding, as others greeted her.

The detective rolled his eyes, "Oh, everybody's saying hello to each other. How wonderful!" He grumbled to himself though for sure a few heard his complaining.

Molly gave a nervous smile and turned to her right, the smile faltered as she shuffled to the door way. "Come on in, already." She whispered.

John turned his head after taking a sip from his beer, "Brought a friend, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked. Lestrade tried to lean back to see through the other door through the kitchen, but forgot it was shut.

Molly nodded to her and kept trying to usher the person in. "It's alright, really." She assured.

"If you're friend wishes not to enter, Molly, you shouldn't have invited them." Sherlock snapped, his patience reaching a dangerous level as he placed his violin and bow down on the dining table.

John was about to counter his attitude, soft slow footsteps creaked on the floor. All heads turned but Sherlock's seeing the unexpected guest. Mrs. Hudson beamed waving to have a huge, Lestrade grinned, John beamed giving her her a nod to Sherlock who was focusing on his own things.

"Maybe I should leave then, Sherlock?" She countered, Sherlock looked up spotting a bundled up Helena staring right at him. She shrugged and folded her hands behind him, "I mean, I did take the time to arrive and all."

Sherlock blinked turning to her, lips trying to form words. "..No I mean.."

Eyes were on the two, going back and forth. Molly felt tense at their stares the two had on each other. Sure he expected her here, but as time went on he was sure she wasn't going to be arriving. Half of him felt she wouldn't while the other more… hoped then expected really. Alone on Christmas he didn't mind, but inside he didn't want her to be alone out in a cold. Going by the window eyes peeled about to find her, by the stairs to hear her ascend up to the flat. That's how he had really spent his Christmas until now- now it could be with her.

"I think he means you can stay." John told putting an arm on her back and looking to him. "Right? Sherlock?"

Sherlock cleared his throat, "But of course." he sat down at the table opening his laptop -or John's- giving a side glance.

Sherlock spotted some moisture on her shoulders and some of her hair was wet- the snow had melted off her indicating that she had be outside for a good while. Lestrade offered to take her coat, to which she declined with a thanks.

"Let me-" Molly shed her coat and scarf off, showing to have a striking black dress giving the group a shock. "Holy Mary."

She always wear heavy set clothing or just her usual lab coat, so seeing her in something so revealing was a bit of a shock. Lestrade's jaw gaped a bit, "Wow!" then hung off as his eyes boggled.

Helena leaned over, "You're drooling, Detective." Earning a look from him, he slightly regained his composure. John took the outerwear hanging it with the others everyone else had. "Very pretty dress, Molly."

She smiled her way, "Thanks, Helena. You're all having Christmas drinkies, then?" Molly asked adjusting her dress a bit, Helena noticed her eyes were on Sherlock. Clearly hoping it'd get his attention.

Helena wandered over to to the fire looking at the decor above the mantel, taking in the heat for her cold body. "No stopping them, apparently." Sherlock commented.

"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me, so it's almost worth it!" Mrs. Hudson explained earning a hug from Helena. "Ohh dear, you're chilled to the bone." She took her hand and gently rubbed it to warm it up.

"Want a cup of tea to warm up?" John offered getting a chair for Molly. "Have a seat."

"No thanks." Helena patted her shoulder with the free hand, "Nothing I'm not used to, Mrs. H." She let her hand go as Helena continued to look over the mantel.

"John?" Sherlock called over.

"Mmm?" He walked around over to look at what Sherlock wanted to show him on the laptop.

Greg called Molly over offering her a drink, suspending her attention from Sherlock. She accepts going into the kitchen with him. Helena, finding herself warm enough, wandered over to Sherlock's other side. "The counter on your blog." He points to the counter on the sidebar to the right. "Still says one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five."

John grimly shook his head, "Oh no! Christmas is cancelled!" He jokingly dreaded giving the table a thud of the beer in his hand.

Helena smiled, John was either in a good mood or had a buzz going to tolerate Sherlock. The dark haired detective rose his voice at a picture he saw under the counter. "And you've got a photograph of me wearing that hat!"

"People like the hat." He brushed off and took the chance to scurry away and sit with his girlfriend.

"No they dont- what people?" He continued searching about the blog.

"Why are you even on there?" She asked leaning her elbows on the table, her face next to Sherlock's. I'm honestly surprised you don't hack in there and change it about."

"As I am of you arriving." Sherlock retorted in a lighter tone. Helena nudged his shoulder getting him to glance to her for a second. Her skin was still pale from the cold, she clearly was literally chilled to the bone. "Go warm up." He told her.

Sherlock looked over to him seeing his eyes focus on the screen, "I already have." She assured flexing her hands to show they weren't shivering.

To prove being right, he reached over putting his hand over her's. Helena's heart jumped to her throat by the sudden contact of him to her. "You're as cold as the hands in the fridge." He informed, his voice low and soft for her to hear as the rest talked on.

"..I-I'm fine." She argued, snatching her hand back, Sherlock looked over as she stepped back shoving her hands in her pockets.

"How's the hip?" Molly asked returning to the room as Greg was getting her drink.

Mrs. Hudson smiled, "Ohh it's atrocious, but thanks for asking."

"I've seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems." Molly joked.

The silence fell after that… awkward humor was made. Seeing her mistake, Molly made quick to correct. "Oh, God. Sorry."

"Don't make jokes, Molly." Sherlock scolded.

"No. Sorry." She whispered, Greg returned with Molly's drink.

Helena returned to Sherlock's side, hands to herself. Sherlock kept in check she was there as he read on. "Handling fame well?"

He sighed. "Don't get me started." Helena chuckled and got closer feeling comfortable again. John watched on seeing the two interact.

"...We're back together. It's all sorted." Lestrade told Molly referring to him and his wife.

Helena looked over, she didn't even know Greg was married. But he did say back together, explains why she never noticed a ring. She was about to answer Sherlock's answer when he spoke. "No, she's sleeping with a P.E. teacher." He informed them without glancing off the screen.

The tramp raised a brow at Sherlock, she cleared her throat. "Problem?" He frowned looking to her, his knuckled to his lips. "You seem tense."

"Tense? Why would I would be tense?"

"Sherlock was complaining-" He side glanced raising a brow at the chosen word Molly used. "Saying." She corrected, bringing Sherlock back to Helena.

"That there; correcting people. It's a holiday." She told taking her hands out and leaning on the table again leaning in to lowly whisper. "So take one." He looked back at the screen shaking his head.

"First time ever, she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze." John told with a proud smile. A popping 'nope' was heard. "Shut up, Sherlock."

Helena glanced up seeing Lestrade wander off into the kitchen getting his phone out, he had grown paranoid by Sherlock's comment. "I agree, I didn't come all this way-"

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him." He smiled turning to the next victim.

"Sorry, what?" Her smile slowly faltered.

"In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift."

"Take a day off." John quietly strained.

Lestrade rounded back in with a glass, "Shut up and have a drink." He told a bit bitterly placing the glass at Sherlock.

"Oh, come on." An amused side grin played, Helena sighed slowly making her way around pass the fireplace standing behind John and Jeanette. "Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow." He stood up buttoning his blazer to make his point further. "All the others are slapdash at best."

Molly started to panic looking at her gift bag that had all the gifts inside. It wasn't a lie, the one red one was the best as the others looked like a child had done the wrapping. Sherlock took the red gift looking it over, growing more and more amused. "It's for someone special, then." He took the gift out of the box showing it to all. "The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has _love _on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all."

Molly looked ready to run out any second as Sherlock went on. John watched nervously, he glanced behind seeing Helena glaring Sherlock wanting to step in and just slap him. He either didn't see or didn't care how this was making Molly feel.

"That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing." He opens the tag showing the group still smirking, "Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts…" Sherlock trailed off reading the tag, of the gift for him.

Dearest Sherlock

Love Molly xxx

The smile faded, realizing what he had done may have been over the line. Helena walked over to Molly side, she took some air to keep herself calm. "You always say such horrible things." She finally told, for sure this was building up for a long while. Molly fought back tears, the smile was there but was bare. "Every time. Always, _always_..."

Sherlock swallowed, not arguing with her statements. He was a horrible man, in most eyes. Right now, he was in all their eyes, even Helena's. Sherlock turned away, but turned back, having to face his mistake for once. "I am sorry." John and Helena were shocked, last time they had heard him apologize was when Helena got arrested. "Forgive me."

The detective stepped forward, leaning to the side of Molly's cheek. "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper." He whispered to her softly, and kissed her cheek sweetly.

Helena's smile returned, seeing Sherlock apologize for all the things he had done to her. Not seeing she liked him, which was new to Sherlock. Guilt ate him inside for her words- the moment was perfect. Sherlock glanced to Helena who softly nodded at his action, smiling at him.

Although, these moments never tend to last long.

"Ohh…"

Molly gasped shocked by the noise, all eyes were at her. "No!" She exclaimed hand at her heart. "That wasn't...I-I didn't…"

"No, it was me." Sherlock admitted. At that moment of others shock, Helena felt her heart sink. She hadn't heard that damned noise in months, and knew exactly what it was.

"My God, really!?"

"What!?"

"My _phone_." he corrected taking the device out.

"Fifty-seven?" John pondered out loud.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock placed Molly's gift on the table checking his phone.

Helena crossed her arms, her eyes at Sherlock. "Fifty-seven of those texts. The ones I've heard."

She wanted to ask what the text said, but maybe the answer was given as he looked to the mantelpiece walking to it. He had found something behind the skull moving the hat.

"Thrilling that you've been counting.." He mumbled.

Tilting her head back, Helena spotted a red box in his hands, a black rope around it as a bow. She took in a dry gulp, had Irene been here? Was that from here, it certainly wasn't from Helena.

"Excuse me." Sherlock walked passed Lestrade and Helena toward the kitchen.

"What-What's up, Sherlock?" John asked, sitting up concerned.

"I said excuse me." He told louder going down the hall to his room.

"Do you ever reply?" He called after.

Helena looked to John and instantly bounded down to the bedroom door, it was cracked open enough for her to see Sherlock sitting on his bed. He hurriedly opened the small box, from Helena's angle she couldn't see the gift, Sherlock removed it holding it up. Irene's phone. Helena's bit her lip to restrain a small gasp, Sherlock slowly put it down then took his own phone out and called a number.

John approached behind Helena, the two together watching Sherlock. "I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight." Helena perked up wanting to go in, John stopped her putting a hand at the door handle. "No, I mean you're going to find her dead." Sherlock hung up and stood from the bed, walking to the door.

"You okay?" John asked.

"Yes." Sherlock then slammed the door on the two without even a glance towards them.

John looked to Helena who just stared at the door, shocked by his words of the women possibly dead. He sighed and put an hand on her back, turning her away. "C'mon, he'll be fine."

"Not so sure." She took her arm away giving a look to John before returning to everyone in the room.

Molly seemed to have been gone though, as the front door shut below them. Something about a call at work, soon Sherlock was out just as soon as she was. Without a word to any of the others who were left. Lestrade was gone after a few texts between him and his wife, looking as distressed as he did when Sherlock first mentioned the P.E. teacher. Mrs. Hudson and John were informing Helena about a 'danger night', from a text Mycroft sent John. Helena agreed, anything to help Sherlock.

Helena volunteered to check the bedroom, was it was the top place to find hidden drugs. She didn't know what exactly to find- at most needles, bottles, and anything that looked like hard drugs. Going through his drawers and checking under the bed it was clear. She took note that his clothing were set in a special manner, she made sure return it in the order they were in.

"Now how come his clothing can be these organized but not his desk or the kitchen table?" She asked herself rounding the bed to check behind the bed and side table drawer.

Her foot angled off stepping on something, she stepped back seeing it was a box- her gift box to Sherlock. It hadn't been opened and looked to have fallen off the bed, probably when Sherlock sat on it earlier. Helena knelt down picking up the auburn wrapped box, she picked this color knowing that deducing man would instantly know it was her. But, it seems he didn't even notice it was here.

In fact, the second that text was given, all focus was returned to Irene Adler. Not to John, not to Molly, no one, not even herself. John had kept convincing her Sherlock cares for her, likes her, hell fancies her. But, maybe his real care went toward Ms. Adler, who was now possibly dead.

"So, that's why it's a danger night.." She stood up and sat on the bed, the feel of the box and rope wrap from Irene's gift nudged her backside. Helena stared at the left overs for a while, finally she stood and shoved the small gift box into her jacket pocket.

Helena finished checking the room and left shutting the door to try and make it as though she had never entered at all. John was on the phone, Mycroft at the other end by the way John was talking. "Shit." He looked to her, "He's coming. Ten minutes."

She shrugged, "I looked all over, nothing in his bedroom." Helena informed looking to the worried Mrs. Hudson who shook her head, finding nothing as well.

John turned, "Looks like he's clean. We've tried all the usual places." he told into the phone. "Are you sure it's a danger night?" Helena looked about finding a inpatient Jeanette on the couch, at this notion she didn't have a liking feeling to this girlfriend. "I've got plans, and I'm sure Helena does too." He glanced to her, she gave a questioning look. "Mycroft. M-"

"Hung up?" Helena asked.

John nodded and walked over to join Jeanette on the couch. Mrs. Hudson stood by the kitchen with Helena. "I am really sorry." He told her.

"You know, my friends are so wrong about you." She told him. "You're a _great_ boyfriend."

John sat up a bit surprised by that comment. "Okay, that's good. I mean, I always thought I was great."

"And Sherlock Holmes is a lucky man."

John groaned at that, Helena and Mrs. Hudson looked to one another at those words from her. "Jeanette, please."

She starting putting her shoes on in a rushed fashion. "No, I mean it. It's heart-warming. You'll do anything for him and he can't even tell your friends apart." Getting to her feet she put her coat on as John followed to try and fix it.

"No, I'll do anything for you." Helena shook her head at those words of his. "Just tell me what it is I'm not doing. _Tell_ me!"

"Don't make me compete with Sherlock Holmes!" She demanded.

Helena just had to cut in, "Alright, I may not be a relationship guru," They looked to her, John closed his eyes at this. "but even I can tell she isn't worth it John." Jeanette looked offended.

John shook his head, still trying to get this working. "I'll walk your dog for you. Hey, I've said it now. I'll even walk your dog."

"I don't have a dog!" She told buttoning her coat up.

He nodded, "No, because that was… the last one."

"Jesus!" Jeanette exclaimed loudly snatching her bag and storming down the stairs.

"I'll call you."

"No!"

"You're loss!" Helena called down earning a frustrated sound from the woman as she slammed the door. She looked to John who seemed awfully stressed and upset, as another girlfriend had gone.

"That wasn't very good, was it?" Mrs. Hudson asking giving a sympathetic look to him.

He sighed and just shook his head, not even able to say a word. "There's other fish in the sea John, I didn't like her the second I saw her anyway." She honestly told crossing her arms leaning back against the door frame.

"I'll be downstairs if anything happens, dears." She told referring to when Sherlock returns.

"Guess I'll be going back out." Helena told turning to the door way.

"No, Helen. Mycroft wants you here." John told turning to her.

She turned back knotted brows. "Stay with Sherlock?" He nodded, Helena sighed and agreed, "I understand. I bet you don't want me back out in the cold either right?"

"Well, Sherlock and I-"

"Don't-" She snapped suddenly taking her jacket and tucked in scarf off. "Don't start with him alright? You were wrong John."

The man was confused, "Wrong?"

She tossed the outerwear onto the chair by the door. "Yes John, _wrong_." She emphasized and walked over sitting in Sherlock's chair by the fire. "He doesn't care for me as you said."

John joined her sitting in his own chair. "What gave you that notion? You two seemed fine talking during the party."

"I thought so too, honestly. Then… Irene returned and…" She sighed again more heavily and got up going to her jacket removing the small gift box she had. Showing it to John who took it looking the wrapping over. "I put it in his room, plain as day where he could see it." She curled her legs under retaking the seat. "Didn't even notice it. I put it on his bed, found it on the floor when I was searching."

"You can still give it to him." He told leaning over for her to take it. "He'll be back any minute, just place it on the bed he'll see it."

Helena smiled and pushed it away. "John- he cares for her, not me. And now she's dead, his mind will be on that, not some foolish gift." She took it and tossed it across the room not caring where it landed. John watched it then looked to Helena who turned toward the fire.

"...Sorry, he has to have something there for you." He told softly patting her knee.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Just- I don't wanna talk anymore about it, okay?"

John nodded and sat back, giving the space she requested. "Right, sorry, I understand."

"Thanks." Helena curled herself up staring at the fire in deep thought.

Sure was cross with John for giving her such thoughts between her and Sherlock. But he didn't expect Irene to block his thoughts and just end up dead catching his attention. Helena felt she was sure there were no feelings and maybe he just wanted to make sure she was dead, he had her phone all he had to do was figure the code on it. But why would it be a danger night? That's what boggled her mind more than anything.

Minutes went by, John reading a book and Helena fast asleep on the couch with a blanket covering her thanks to John. The front door opened and closed, thudding ascending up the stairs as Sherlock appeared at the doorway.

John turned half way to see the dark man, "Oh, hi." Not getting an answer, he asked, "You okay?"

Sherlock eyes scanned the room thoroughly; he knew they had searched. His eyes fell on Helena on the couch, not expecting her to stick around knowing her. But then again, he bet John convinced her to stay. The brooding man turned down the hall to his room calling out, "Hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time."

The door slammed shut, the noise jolting Helena awake. John put the book down and sighed heavily, he noticed Helena looking around in an alert fashion. "It's Sherlock, Helena, it's alright." He assured her. Helena nodded and turned over going back to sleep.

It didn't turn out to be a very merry Christmas as John had hoped it'd be.

* * *

Thank you Nik1804, paulavara140, sophiewhettingsteel, DarkEmpress192, Hetomi, kattcrue, ilikeballoons, GlaciesCruor, Tami Mikaelson, sakuratokkilust6411, 18TSMarley, TheDevilsDaughter267, .35, Psychodella, for the favorites and follows for the story!

Some romance showing there? Oooohh~ But instead I kill it with Irene. *shot*

Got a huge blizzard here in the east coast, people call it the repeat of the blizzard of '96. It really is giving me flashbacks of that awesome blizzard! Sadly I can't play out there from my condition to the cold. Remember to _**review **_and favorite!


	27. Chapter 27

Irene Adler had been confirmed to be dead, by Sherlock's words. This didn't bring Helena relief as she expected, it brought worry. Helena passed by the flat every day since morning after Christmas. She would at time sit on the roof across from the flat, though Sherlock never left only John or Mrs. Hudson. Not once while there did she see Sherlock leave. Had this really been Moriarty's plan?

New Year's Eve arrived and Helena was sitting in the park on a tree branch. Wasn't any roof but she wanted to enjoy it as the snow finally melted and it wasn't so cold. A policeman on duty spotted her and warned her to stay off, Helena reluctantly did as told and decided to just lay across a vacant bench. With a sigh staring at the gray sky, she took her cellphone out looking over the text conversation with her brother. Seems his 'girlfriend' invited him to her place to watch the ball drop, Helena encouraged him to go assuring they could spend time whenever after his school hours. She didn't want to take his entire time up, he had a life after all.

"New Years and it's the same as every year in the end." She chuckled, she laid the phone on her stomach and removed another item from her other pocket; her gift to Sherlock. "And never gave his gift." She spun the corners of the box between her palms as small entertainment. The wrapping was starting to get wrinkled and some holes could be seen.

Sure, she could've returned it or tossed it, but Helena wasn't that angry. Sherlock, feelings or not, still was an employment to her no longer working for Mycroft. Not getting any texts from him sure was a load off her shoulders. This brought more to John for sure, but Helena felt John could handle it better than herself. When texting about the danger night, it made sense to her it was given to John as she had no idea about such a thing. Which lead to her visiting the flat everyday.

"Would he even had liked it?" She asked herself holding the box up. Her expression grew more sad, eyelids blinked claiming the air was making her eyes grow watery.

Helena shot up, cellphone falling to her lap as she got a sudden look of glaring- at least to other it'd be glaring. She had a sudden sense of perseverance ran through her. "Screw it. I'll shove it up his nose if I have to. I went through hell getting this!" Shoving her phone and the box into her leather jacket pockets, Helena bolted into a run to Baker Street.

* * *

Music filled the flat for a past week; the flat of 221b still had it's holiday decorations much to the the one tenant's surprise. He had expected his flatmate to demand the decor be taking down with Christmas over or he start taking them down himself. But no- Sherlock Holmes had been spending his week playing music, sitting about the flat, and acting a bit like a heartbroken teenager. The music he played was sad somber tune but still pretty.

That New Year's Eve morning Sherlock was at the window playing the music with the music sheet to his right ready to write down the needed notes. John came into the room just having a shower, Mrs. Hudson was clearing the dishes showing a concerned look when she showed Sherlock hadn't eaten his breakfast. John sighed taking the jacket from his chair throwing it on. The tall man paused to pick up the pencil on the sheet and write the new notes he added.

"Lovely tune, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson complimented taking the dishes to the kitchen. "Haven't heard that one before."

"You composing?" John asked when Sherlock didn't reply to her, he was looking into the mirror above the mantel making sure he looked alright.

"Helps me to think." He excused turning back to play the tune over again.

John fixed his jacket and looked to his friend, he looked down in thought and looked up back asking, "What are you thinking about?"

Sherlock suddenly stopped putting his instrument down and spun to point at John's open laptop. "The counter on your blog is still stuck at one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five."

The doctor walked over seeing the counter was indeed still on there. He had got emails about new follows so it should've changed, but this didn't bring much concern to him. "Yea, it's faulty." He told. "Can't seem to fix it."

"Faulty-" Sherlock whipped Irene's phone out, "Or you've been hacked and it's a message." John watches as he types in '1895' into the phone. A warning beep alerted from the phone and the words '**WRONG PASSCODE 3 Attempts Remaining**' popped onto the screen. Sherlock's face fell, he turned the phone off with a low "Just faulty." pocketing the phone in his dressing gown.

He picked the violin and bow up to continue his playing. "Right." John muttered, "Right. Well, I'm going out for a bit."

No response from Sherlock, John just turns to the kitchen where Mrs. Hudson stood worriedly picking the keys to the flat off the table. "Listen; has he ever had _any_ kind of…" He pauses, trying to word this out. "girlfriend, boyfriend, a relationship, ever?"

She shook her head helplessly. "I don't know." She may have known Sherlock longer than John, but as far as she knew him, never had she seen him with a partner- until John in her eyes.

"How can we not know?" John asked

"He's Sherlock. How will we _ever_ know what goes on in the funny old head?"

John smiled at her and gave a final glance to his flatmate. Last time he was anything like this was when Helena was missing- taken by Jim Moriarty and gone for days. Sure, he didn't write sad music or such, but his appetite had shorten, sending constant texts, and looking for her out the windows. Small guilt heaved at John from his misconception between her and Sherlock.

"Right. See ya." He waves softly and heads out the kitchen and down the stairs leaving the flat. Mrs. Hudson sighed and looked to Sherlock, continuing with her daily cleaning.

Once Sherlock found the time right, he dressed and left the flat following John Watson.

* * *

"Now do I just straight up chuck it at him," Helena pondered speed walking down the street seeing the flat coming up to her left. "or try to pry some guilt out...of.." Her footing grew smaller as she noticed the front door; the door was a jar and some wood looked to have been damaged by the knob and lock. Someone broken in.

"...Oh no.." Helena swung the door opened, she heard yelling upstairs- no screaming. "Mrs. Hudson!" She called as the struggling seemed to have paused.

Helena ran up the stairs, and burst into the room finding the man she met once before hold her hostage. The American man from Ms. Adler's place, Helena spotted two other men with him. The American recognized Helena instantly, "Get her." He demanded.

First initial thought Helena had was run; and she did so hearing the two big men chase after her. She only made as far as the second flight when her arm was grabbed. Helena threw a fist with her free arm as she was repeatedly tugged back. The man let go of her to dodge her punch, the other one grabbed her around the waist. Helena shrieked in frustration struggling to fight against the brutes, she knew she couldn't fight these three off to save Mrs. Hudson. Helena knew they wanted the phone that Sherlock had- she had to find Sherlock!

"Let go!" She screamed at them, kicking the one holding her in the gut. He groaned letting her go but gravity became a new enemy, Helena felt herself tumble down the stairs, crashing onto the floor. Her body pulsed with pain, but her arm was what made her whimper in pain the most.

* * *

"He's writing sad music!" John informed loudly as it echoes throughout the structure. "Doesn't eat, barely talks; only to correct the television." As he continued forward in the large area, the figure started waltzing in. "I'd say he was heartbroken but, er, well, he's Sherlock." John looked around him before turning back. "He does all that anyw…"

Before stood the dead woman- Irene Adler.

When John left the flat, an attractive woman approached him, knowing his name. As soon as a sleek car came back, instant assumption it was Mycroft summoning him, John Watson had never expected it to be the one who was causing all this trouble for not just one friend, but both of them.

"Hello, Doctor Watson." She greets, stopping to b a good distance away from the man.

John was just stunned, he takes a few breathes and finds his voice. "Tell him you're alive."

Irene shook her head. "He'd come after me."

"Helena and I will come after you if you don't."

"Hmm, I believe you two would."

He took a sidestep, feeling his anger rise. "You were dead on a slab." John told in a louder tone. "It was definitely you."

She had an answer though, to assure John he wasn't see a possible ghost. "DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep."

"And I bet you know the record-keeper." He retorted.

"I know what he likes, and I needed to disappear." Irene explained crossing her arms.

"Then how come _I_ can see you, and I don't even want to?" He gestured to the windows. "Should I expect Helena to come through any second as well?"

She smirked and raised her hands up. "Look, I made a mistake." Irene admitted. "I sent something to Sherlock for safe-keeping and now I need it back, so I need your help."

"No." John told without a thought.

"It's for his own safety." She tried, knowing John did care about him.

"So's this." He countered. "Tell him you're alive."

"I can't."

The doctor seethed a bit to hold back from yelling. "Fine. I'll tell him, and I still won't help you." He turned done with the conversation, walking away.

"What do I say?" She calls to him.

John finally loses the patience and yells, "What do you _normally_ say?! You've texted him a lot!" His yell echoed out, vibrating back to the duo. He paused, seeing her take her phone out.

"Just the usual stuff." She defended looking up the texts in her message history.

"There is no 'usual' in this case." John was not only angry by the fact she fake her death causing Sherlock's current mood, but also grew a huge strain between them and Helena.

""Good morning." "I like your funny hat." "I'm sad tonight. Let's have dinner." John was looking away refusing to acknowledge them, until he heard that third one. He turned back looking shocked by the term 'dinner'. ""You looked sexy on Crimewatch. Let's have dinner." "I'm not hungry, let's have dinner."" She finished with a knowing smirk.

John was stunned, "You…._flirted_ with Sherlock Holmes?" never had he thought that word and Sherlock be used in the same sentence.

"_At_ him." She corrected staring at her phone. "He never replies."

Now that, he couldn't believe. "No, Sherlock always replies- to everything! He's Mr. Punchline. He will outlive God to have the last word."

Irene looked straight at him. "Does that make me special?"

It almost seemed true, but John didn't want to say yes. In his mind and heart, he knew someone else was special to him; not The Woman, not her. It couldn't be. "...I-I don't know. Maybe."

"...Is she jealous?" She asked back to her phone.

John had no right to answer that, nor did he actually know if Helena was- if referring to her. "It's not my right to answer that."

She grinned, "It's cute really." she tutted. "She should make a move before she thinks the same about you." John frowned at that, knowing she meant about them being gay; when they weren't! "There- "I'm not dead. Let's have dinner."" She showed the phone as the text were true to her words, and she pressed the send button.

He gulped back an urge to raise his voice again. "Who-Who the hell knows about Sherlock Holmes, but- for the record if out there still cares, I'm not actually gay."

"Well, I am. Look at us both."

John scoffs at her words- without any warning the well known orgasmic sigh is heard by the two. Sherlock had indeed followed them, he stood outside the room but he was able to hear the conversation. Having his phone on the screen lighting his face up, the dark detective sharply turns making his leave in silence. John stepped up to go after, but Irene held a hand up stopping him.

"I don't think so, do you?" She asked looking to him. John could only stand in worry, unknowing to where Sherlock was going or what he was going to do. Only resort, was to tell Helena.

* * *

Almost in a blank state of his mind, Sherlock found himself walking back to the flat of Baker street. Something becoming of him that he didn't know what to do. Play the violin? Experiment? Insult the idiots on tv? No- nothing could bring up what could help the cause deep in him.

As he approached the door, his mind finally clicked back into gear seeing damage at the knob where the lock would be. Someone had broken in, the thought of Helena breaking in was instantly dismissed. She came through the windows and Mrs. Hudson alway let her- Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock pressed the door open and with silence and gradual movement, opened the second door pressing his hand to the glass. He gave a look around towards 221A door, it was a jar and unoccupied. On the floor laid a bucket and cleaning supplies, Mrs. Hudson was about to start her usual cleaning. He took a step and felt something crush and bend beneath his shoe, looking down Sherlock found a now bent in wrapped box- a present? Picking it up, he looked it over, the wrapping color had an auburn color and clearly the box had been through well done abuse.… Auburn; Helena. Had she been here?

He continued searching for more clues to what had happened spotting scuff marks on the wall along the stairs, the wall had been dug into by nails as he looked higher. Mrs. Hudson was taken up by some brutes, and Helena? No doubt she tried to escape or else she would've texted or found him. He pocketed the box, as he rose up the stairs, in his blue eyes a fire of anger rose- no the intent of _murder_ did.

In the upper flat, Mrs. Hudson sat in a chair keeping herself from crying during the time of waiting for Sherlock Holmes. A gun was felt against behind her head, she whimpered wishing to just get up and get away from the deadly weapon. One goon was by the window looking for the man, the other by the kitchen where the for sure auburn haired woman was handcuffed to a lamp. She huddle unable or wished to not dare move for both her and Mrs. Hudson's safety. The American, Neilson, was the one holding the gun to the poor elder woman's head. The door slowly creaked open, Sherlock slowly and carefully strolled with hands behind his back, giving a look about finding the two women indeed here. He had hoped Helena wasn't- seeing her huddle a corner handcuffed made his heart sink, and only brought more intent to make the man pay.

At the sight of the young man, Mrs. H started sobbing once again. "Oh, Sherlock, Sherlock!"

"Don't snivel, Mrs. Hudson." He spoke, "It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet." sounding mean to others it more assurance to the lady. He looked dead at Neilson. "What a tender world that would be."

She still let soft sobs out, her hands holding up wishing to be released to Sherlock. "Oh, Please, sorry, Sherlock." Despite knowing he was there, Helena didn't move.

"I believe you have something that we want, Mrs. Holmes." The arrogant American told.

"Then why don't you ask for it?" Sherlock stepped forward holding a hand out to Mrs. Hudson to inspect any damage on her. He pulled the right sleeve down finding bruises on her wrist. She whimpered continuously.

"I've been asking this one. She doesn't seem to know anything." Sherlock's gaze went up spotting the shoulder of her cardigan ripped showing her skin, though no opening to her skin so far. "And that rat there, she won't even answer me." He looked higher to her face, there- he spotted a cut on her cheek. On Neilson's ring he found blood, Mrs. Hudson's blood. "No matter what I try to do to her." Sherlock's eyes rose to glare right into the man's eyes, wishing to pulverize him at this instant. "But you know what I'm asking for, don't you, Mr. Holmes?"

His eyes glanced to Helena, despite handcuffed she didn't seem to be experience a panic attack. Her breathing was heavy seeing her shoulders rise up and down. What got his attention more was her head hung down staring at her arm that was nestling in her lap between her gut and her huddle up legs. Helena would be fighting her way out or screaming curses at them. Something _broke _her.

Sherlock looked over Neilson's body in a rapid session finding the target points to cause the worse injury to this man- or even death. "I believe I do."

He straightens up taking his hand from Mrs. Hudson and placing them both behind his back. She softly begged again, as he focused on the American who shifted the gun towards Sherlock. "First, get rid of your boys."

"Why?"

"I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room." He explained looking between the men.

He hesitated, but then again he had two hostages, he could out win Sherlock this time. "You two, go to the car." He gestured to them.

"Then get into the car and drive away." He smirked near amused thinking this man could outsmart him. "Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work." He ruled out thickly.

The two men leave the room and go down stairs to, more or less, follow Sherlock's orders. Mrs. Hudson shifted in her chair, trembling scared to what was going to happen. Her eyes shot to Helena now and then worried for her care and safety as well.

Sherlock issued the next order. "Next you can stop pointing that gun at me."

"So you can point a gun at me?" Neilson retorted.

He stepped back spreading his arms out to the side. "I'm unarmed."

"Mind if I check?"

"Oh, I insist."

Because of the coat he adorned, Sherlock could really be hiding a gun in there, within his blazer, or back of his belt. Neilson walks arounds the trembling elder, as she whimpered out softly, "Don't do anything." Be that to Sherlock or Neilson was unknown. The American pats his ribs, and pulls the coat open seeing nothing, still a gun pointed at him he checks around patting his back. Sherlock rolls his eyes at his landlady finding this all unneeded. Though before he could check anymore, Sherlock reaches into his coat pocket and whips out Mrs. Hudson sanitizer spray! He turns and viciously prayed the chemicals into Neilson's eyes earning a scream of pain, but not before he ferociously rears back and slamming his head into the American knocking him out to the floor. Lucky for Sherlock he had a thick skull, and dealt with situations with a need of a headbutt or two.

"Moron." He proclaims flipping the can with ease and slams it onto the dining table.

"Oh, thank you." She cried as Sherlock hurried to getting to his knees. Sis hand went to her cheek inspecting the cut, he tsked at the damage. Her hands still shook, as he held them. "You're alright now, you're alright."

She nodded feeling safe once again. "Yes."

Sherlock was about to handle Neilson, but he remembered the tramp in the corner- Helena. She still never rose her head or moved at all, Sherlock started to question if she was knocked out. Dreading another concussion with her, he stood and turned to the American.

* * *

Her focus was in a blur- trying to stay still as much as possible. The pain shooting through her arm was now a numb throbbing, still enough that she wished to let out just a cry of pain then her panting to keep a whimper down. Helena had been through a lot of pain in her life, never had she experienced pain like this before. The sudden jerk of her arm brought her mind to snap awake, she slowly looked up at her numb handcuffed wrist, Sherlock picking the lock to free her.

"Sherlock…" She muttered refusing to move the rest of her body.

He didn't answer, using the lock picking device to get the click of it unlocked. She leaned her head back against the book shelf behind her watching him work her wrist free. Soon the click was heard by both of them, her arm fell beside her, she had a half ring mark on her wrist that was threatening to cut her circulation off. Pins and needles ran up her one arm, as the other still had excruciating pain.

He knelt down to her, a hand reached out to her chin lifting her head to inspect her face. No damage was on her, thankfully no head injury it seemed this time. Her eyes were half lidded, exhausted from the pain she was experiencing. Sherlock knew what was hurting her; how she cradled her arm, her low heavy breathing to keep any movement touching it, how she wasn't hit like Mrs. Hudson. Her arm was broken, and she needed medical attention immediately.

Helena looked over Sherlock's shoulder where Neilson sat tied to a chair, back towards her. He noticed her looking to it and moved to block her view. "He won't hurt you," He softly assured, his scarf and coat off prepared to do some medical work once again on this women. "John's going to have to teach me medical care because of you."

She breathed out hastily at his words, "It's broken, just.. just make a splint and I-I'll live." She told with a dim voice.

Sherlock kept a hold on her chin, "At most I can do that, but you will be going to the hospital when John arrives." He told looking into her eyes, softly he asked. "Are you hurting anywhere else?"

"No.. I.."

Helena was lost in his eyes, trying to blink away but found no chance to do so. She saw something there she hadn't seen in a long while- worry. Helena's head weighed into Sherlock's hand as he moved to cradle her cheek into his palm, she leaned in closing her eyes. It was as though she longed for this contact with the detective, it could be the pain just deluding her mind. He scanned her face, seeing her relax at his touch, her eyes were red and slightly puffy around the lids. She could've been crying when she got hurt, God only knows how long she had been sitting there suffering. Again, he had caused her harm or trauma, Sherlock Holmes, the site of Helena like this caused his heart to bring feelings to him he wasn't used to. The urge to wrap arms around her, tell her it was going to be alright and maybe even...

It was cut a bit short, as Sherlock slid his hand away and stood going to Mrs. Hudson who sat on the couch asking where John's medical kit was.

She looked down at her good arm, feeling the blood flow once again and flexed it in and out. "Sherlock, like I said... make a splint and a sling." They looked to her, "Just find something to splint it and I can move.."

Helena showing weakness was something Sherlock hated to see. She was in pain leading her afraid to move, which was why she didn't have a panic attack being cuffed. He knew Helena was right, she couldn't stay like that until John arrived. Her joints had to be stiff and sore as well sitting there for so long.

Sherlock nodded and walked into the kitchen to find something to splint it. Mrs. Hudson looked sympathetically to her, she hadn't seen her fall but when Helena was dragged in- the screaming would echo in her mind.

"Oh Helena, don't move!" Mrs. Hudson cried.

Sherlock came back finding Helena attempting to stand, her good hand holding her broken arm against her chest. She panted leaning on the shelf as some books fell over, finally to her feet as Sherlock watched in the kitchen door way. Her eyes shifted to him as she bit back a whimper and gave a painful grin. "You're just.. too slow." She breathed out wincing as she straightened her back still pressing her arm against her stomach.

Sherlock approached her in his hand was a ruler, must have found that in the kitchen drawers, she guessed. "One will have to do." He told placing a hand around her shoulder leading her to the couch to sit beside Mrs. Hudson. "We'll have to get that jacket off."

Helena could see now that Neilson was beaten, nose bleeding and he was gagged, as well as knocked out. She must have been in a real state of a stupor as she hadn't really heard anything. Her attention was all on her arm at the time, as well as keeping herself from remembering she was handcuffed.

"That's fine.." She nodded looking to Sherlock preparing for pain.

She held her arm out supporting it, Sherlock held her arm up as she got her good arm out of the one sleeve and held it. He moved the sleeve through as slow as possible, Helena inched it along wincing at each time she moved her hand. They had to shimmy it off her as she bit her lip and a few times she clenched the sleeve pausing Sherlock at times. Mrs. Hudson watched on wishing to help, the best she could do was place a comforting hand on her back. It felt like forever, but the jacket was off, being tossed onto the chair to Sherlock's right.

Sherlock knelt down to carefully placed the ruler against her arm, Helena resisted hard to cringe or show him the pain. He reached for the tape and started to wrap it keeping it in place, her shoulders rose up now and again as he wrapped it, he continued none the less knowing he couldn't stop to ask her if she was alright every three seconds. She sighed still holding her now wrapped arm, "Needs support.." She told.

Sherlock was way ahead, he had beside him his blue scarf, she watched as he flattened it out and reached behind her neck making a knot. Helena was stunned as he was leaning in close, their cheeks near touchable. Sherlock moved back, "Gently.." He told her as he helped her lay her arm in the sling of the scarf.

She took in some breath as she was able to rest her other arm, feeling pain still but her arm was in a better care than before. "It's not perfect." He commented getting to his feet and leaving momentarily down the stairs, not before snatching up the gun off the floor.

Helena turned to Mrs. Hudson who still was in a bit of a shock, but was smiling softly at her. Helena smiled back, "You doing alright?" She asked placing her good arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, I'm being dramatic." She told hiding back tears.

Helena rubbed her arm. "If anything, you were pretty brave." She praised, moving her seating position only to bring a shot of pain up her arm, "Hmp!"

"Be careful, dearie." Mrs. H told with worry once again.

She simply nodded with a cringe as Sherlock returned with his cell phone out. He sat down in the chair to her left, pointing the gun at Nellson. "Now what?" She asked him keeping her arm around the landlady.

"We wait." He told keeping his hard glare on the American.

It wasn't long before John Watson had arrived to the flat, with a questioning look at the door when he saw the note. 'Crime in progress. Please Disturb' Bounding up the stairs, John instantly asked, "What's going on?" His eyes set upon the familiar man bound and gagged, now awake. "Jeez, what the hell is happening?"

"Mrs. Hudson and Helena's been attacked by an American. I'm restoring balance to the universe." Was Sherlock's answer, as he sat there phone to his ear and the man's pistol being aimed at him.

John looked over horrified to see the trembling kind elder and the sling wearing homeless woman. "My God, are you two alright?" He rushed over to them, he looked over Helena's arm quick who just notioned him to help comfort Mrs. Hudson. John placed a protective arm around her, "Jesus, what have they done to you." He asked them both glaring the man.

"Oh, I'm just being so silly." She cried covering her face.

"No, no.." John held her close as she sobbed once more.

Sherlock stood hearing his phone making a connection finally. "Downstairs." He told, "Take them downstairs and look after them."

John stood offering help to Mrs. Hudson first, "Alright, it's alright." Though she was fine as she responded with 'I'm fine' over and over heading to the stairs.

John turned his attention to Helena, he knew her arm was fractured, how that happened he needed to know. Helena was one to deny help but when John offered a hand, she quickly took it and seethed out air getting to her feet, leading her to the stairs. "Careful, I'll take a look at that." He stepped to Sherlock, "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

"I expect so. Now go." He responded turning to give a look before glaring back at Neilson. John shared an equal glare.

Helena paused as the steps as Mrs. Hudson was down first, "Sherlock?" He glanced over his shoulder at her, she took in a breath trying to find her words. He only mouthed, 'go' to her before turning back to the American.

"Come on, Helena. I need to see you're arm." John told, walking over leading her to the stairs. John lead them to Mrs. Hudson's kitchen as he wanted to firstly look at her arm. Helena turned away, "No, check on her." She told him nodding to Mrs. H. "She needs that cut clean, Sherlock.. took care if this well."

John was hesitant, but nodded and went to work cleaning her cut to keep an infection. Helena stood by with them by the window to get the best lighting before the sun was to go down. She flinched now and then at the chemical he pressed as gently as he could.

"Ohh, it stings." She mumbled, John nodded mouthing 'I know' as he continued.

Out of the complete nowhere, something plummets down past the window with a hard crash. John and Helena turn to the window shocked, Mrs. Hudson hears the sound of cans falling about. "Ohh, that was right on my bins." The two glanced to her, John leaned a bit to the window to try and see what that was as a horrible groan was heard.

* * *

"And exactly how many times did he fall out that window?" Lestrade asked as he stood outside the flat with Sherlock. The ambulance blaring and flashing taking its leave to get it's new patient to E.R.

"It's all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count." He sharply relied turning to almost give a look that Lestrade knew.

Greg had known what falling out a window can do, but at the same time he had a suspicion of what Sherlock had really done to this man. But, he decided not to question it as he made his leave along with the officers.

Inside the flat of 221A, John and Mrs. Hudson sat at the kitchen table, John still highly concerned for the elderly woman. The door opened to Sherlock wiping his shoes on the mat before fully entering the kitchen.

"She'll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her." John told as Mrs. Hudson looked to still be shaken by the ordeal.

"No." She waved off.

"Of course, but she's fine." Sherlock agreed with her as he made his direction toward her small fridge.

John looked to him, "No she's not. Look at her." As Sherlock peered in, John continued knowing Sherlock would keep denying it. "She's got to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go and stay with her sister. Doctor's orders."

Sherlock picked up a mince pie and nudge the door shut with his foot, as he turned to the two. "Don't be absurd." He frowned taking a bite.

"She's in shock, for God's sake, and Helena is upstairs in God know's what pain." Sherlock gave a glance to the ceiling, figuring she was there. "All over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it, anyway?" John just wanted to chuck that thing down the garbage disposal.

He wiped some crumbs off with his thumb, "Safest place I know." he told glancing to Mrs. Hudson.

She looked up and reached into her shirt with a stern look. "You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot." She scolded though with a small grin, taking out the phone that hid in her bra. John looked horribly confused, she had kept it on her the whole time!? "I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry." She laughed.

Sherlock triumphantly tosses it in the air, catching it he pockets the device. "Thank you." Then looks to John. "Shame on you, John Watson."

He was now dumbfounded at his words, Sherlock walked to her side. "Same on me!?"

"Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street?" He placed a securing arm around her gently pulling her close. "England would fall." She laughed at his words patting her arm, feeling better already. Sherlock chuckled gently, as John smiled on at the two.

* * *

Sherlock entered his room not shocked to find the tramp there sitting on the edge of his bed. She now had a proper sling and her arm was securely wrapped. "Don't plan on leaving already?" He asked standing in front of her.

She smirked at him, a tired one at that. "You know better. I can't get far and this, and it's becoming cold again."

"And you took your medication." Sherlock pointed out seeing her eyes wanting to close. "No doubt you'll be ready to fall asleep- on my bed of course." He added in a false annoyed tone.

She scoffed and released a sigh, looking down the smile fade. Sherlock followed her gaze seeing her hold his scarf, she held it out to him. "Thanks."

The same feeling from before started to return to him. He stepped towards her, reached down for the scarf, but instead he took her hand. Helena looked up at him, a bit muddled by his actions, as his thumb brushed over her knuckles. They felt course, though he didn't expect them to be soft with her line of work. Sherlock thought back on seeing her today: chained like a broken animal; a broken woman. His eyes shifted to her arm in a sling and then up to match her gaze, finding himself closer than before. Why had he caused her this trouble? Arrested… A bomb near strapped to her… And now a broken bone… For the third time she was trapped to her phobia. She always suffered the consequences of his actions. Why did she stay by him after going through all this? It had to be the one thing Sherlock Holmes could not deduce.

Helena had only felt this contact with him during her blind session. It seemed as though every time something happened to her, he became like this. Touching, gentle, and closer than she's seen anyone get to him, except Irene. Then she remembered that Irene was dead and thought that maybe John was right after all. Sherlock cared for her, looked at her in ways he didn't look at anyone else. Helena found herself looking at him differently, even more-so than before. At first he was a rude, bored, detective; different from the usual pain in the ass. But now… Now she saw him as a man who was just never given a chance from others being mean to him, simply because he was different; like she was. Helena didn't know if he really was struggling with Irene Adler's death, but what Helena did know- or what the drugs would make her eventually forget- was that Sherlock's lips was softer than she had ever imagined.

Sherlock Holmes though, found this event to be- he tried to find a reason why Helena kissed him. From what he can deduce; Helena leaned in without any warning and pressed her lips against his for a good few seconds. She pulled back slowly, and rested her head onto his shoulder, leaving him to just stare off in shock. Never had the man earned something as trivial as this; a _kiss_!? Romance was a human error, love wasn't possible for him.

So, why did he refuse to shove her away when she had done the deed?

The detective gently raised her from his shoulder, showing she had indeed fallen asleep. He didn't blame her, the drugs were the final boost she needed with the exhaustion she fought from the pain. With her arm, Sherlock delicately laid her down on the bed as he thought this event through.

She is drugged, dead tired, if anything she just 'fell' onto his lips. That was the true explanation to it all. Once he found Helena to be in a safe and comfortable position, he looked over her relaxed features. Sherlock moved his scarf stuffing it into his coat pocket.

"Too Strong." He muttered moving around the room taking his phone out, sending a text.

* * *

John poured himself a drink in the kitchen having a need to relax his nerves. As he entered the living room, Sherlock as well entered from the hall. Helena wasn't there so he guessed she was sleeping in his bed, he bit back a smile. "Where is it now?" He asked as Sherlock removed his coat.

"Where no one will look." He answered, picking up his violin and moving to the window.

"Is Helena alright?" He asked glancing to the room.

Sherlock took in a sharp breath. "She's sleeping, I wouldn't wake her for a long while." He told looking his instrument over.

He nodded. "Whatever's on that phone is more than just pictures."

"Yes, it is."

Sherlock tunes his violin a bit, preparing to give it a play. John watches on, he shifts his footing. "So, she's alive then." He stated. "How are we feeling about that?"

Big Ben let out a toll, midnight had struck through London. Sherlock glances toward the direction, he response none the less. "Happy New Year, John."

John keeps on the subject. "Do you think you'll be seeing her again?"

Sherlock turned picking his bow up, flipping it up and catching it with ease. He plays 'Auld Lang Syne' giving John a glance before turning away. John gives up is questioning, and leans back into his chair deciding to savor his drink and revel the calm night.

* * *

Thank you Flaye's, BloodyFallenRose, calliopemuse83, LegallyBlondeAngel, nefanee, for the favorites and follows for the story!

Nik1804- Thanks so much! I try hard to get them out weekly-monthly. At times I get a lot of writers block to make sure it looks well and right for the story. But this helps show I am doing good so far! thanks again!

Guest- Thanks! I'm glad that didn't seem too mary sue, a lot of readers hate when the oc predicts or knows what's to happen. Ahh, that was something I contemplated for a long while to decide how this would work with Helena. I had to research and had friends help me on her arm, hope it wasn't too off.

If there are any grammar errors or spelling, feel free to note me on it and I shall correct it right away. I type too fast and stupid google docs doesn't find every error.


	28. Chapter 28

Her memory had been hazy since the EMTs gave her pain meds the night before, waking up in Sherlock's bed once again. Her fight against the drugs has messed with her a bit, waking up sore and dreadfully thirsty next afternoon. Helena wandered the flat finding her male companions nowhere in sight. She expected John to at least be there, but he was probably trying to get…. What's her face back to him. Sherlock wasn't there, not a shocking manner, really. Usually when she awoke at the flat, the detective was never there.

She wasn't hungry surprisingly, she slipped her jacket and shoes on, letting the one side hang over her shoulder. Just a quick glass of water from the kitchen peeked outside the flat through the window. Helena probably shouldn't be leaving the flat with her arm and possibly hazed mind, but she wanted to get out for some air. Thinking back, looking to her arm, she was a possible target for that damned phone Sherlock was hiding. Her memory shot back, that phone; Irene Adler. A scowl spread across her face thinking of that woman who was the cause of all this, she was lucky she was dead. Thanks to this phone, Helena was a possible target just as before. Anything to get the phone from Sherlock Holmes.

A scoff escaped, like Helena would take danger seriously, even with her arm in a sling. She had no doubt the boys wanted her to stay at the flat during this time until Sherlock got the code. Then again visiting the flat got her injured in the first place. Sneaking down the stairs, past Mrs. Hudson who was currently doing dishes, she left the flat and walked down the street. Now her thought processed on where to go.

* * *

A sigh escaped the Tramp's lips as she chucked a rubber ball at a wall sitting on the floor of a lab. It bounced back as she easily caught it with her one hand, the other resting in a proper medical sling for the arm kept tightly in a brace. Well, of all the places she could've gone- St. Bart's was the chosen place.

Helena thought of locations she could be found by John, Sherlock, and even Mycroft, but a possible location that American bastard wouldn't find her. She's been held hostage before, she preferred not to have that happen again.

It was thanks to Molly she got into one of the lab rooms, where she was currently working. She didn't mind Helena throwing the ball, having company was good for her. Molly took noticed to her arm, asking what happened, but simply said scowled and said 'I'll tell you in a good mood'. When that would be, who knew. Why her mood was this, Molly couldn't ask or guess. Helena just requested she be left alone.

Lost in her thoughts, she honestly hated herself for not able to help Mrs. Hudson during that charade. Instead, she ran like a coward and just her luck- got hurt becoming useless. She hadn't noticed she was throwing the ball faster and with more force as her thoughts went deeper. A shot of pain in her arm brought her back, she missed a catch letting the hard bouncy ball slam into her arm.

"Oww! Shit.." She groaned curling her fingers up in pain.

Molly heard, rushing over to her, "Are you alright?" She asked seeing her face scrunched up in pain. "What happened?"

Helena hissed out, "Stupid ball!" And kicked it away letting it roll to the other side of the room.

Without warning, the door opened with hurried foot steps. Molly jumped to her feet, "S-Sherlock?"

"Don't mind me, just using the equipment." He told hastily walking to the monitors. "Won't be long."

Of course, Helena quickly maneuvered on the other side of the table Sherlock was at not wanting him to see her. She stayed on the floor as she heard Molly move for her, she pressed her finger to her lips, indicating her not to say a word of her. Molly understood, and walked over to Sherlock as he removed his coat, scarf, and started setting the computer up.

"What brings you here? New case?" She asked in attempt to keep him still, though he wasn't one to move about when using the microscope.

"Somewhat." He muttered typing on the computer, he turned putting something into the small X-ray machine and shut it just as quickly has he had opened it.

Molly decided to continue her own work, acting as if everything was normal. Helena breathed as silently as she could, still on the floor leaning against the cabinets behind her. It wasn't a big deal even if he found her there, she just didn't want to get lectured about being out possibly by John more than Sherlock-. He leaned into the screen, and sighed with exasperation. There went _that_ idea.

"Is that a phone?" Molly asked, as her attention returned to Sherlock, the computer monitor showing an X-ray.

Helena listened in, that phone had to be _the_ phone. She wished she could snatch that bloody thing off him and toss it in a river.

"It's a camera phone." He corrected, he spotted four small black dots in the device was set in case it was ever pried open. Typical.

"And you're X-raying it?" She asked, deciding to keep this going. Sherlock at times got annoyed by Molly, he seemed to be cooled down on it since the Christmas incident with her.

"Yes, I am."

Helena frowned; X-ray it? She guessed he wanted to see if it was optional to open it. Hacking was out of the question, she hoped this was possible.

"Whose phone is it?" She asked, possibly part of the case, she guessed.

"A woman's." He answered, still calm as can be.

Molly glanced to Helena's spot for a split second. "Your girlfriend?"

Helena's heart skipped, was she indicating this was _her_ cellphone?! Sure, Sherlock got it for her. But she felt it in the back pocket of her jeans. Even if it was, Sherlock had no means to X-ray it, as he could hack it any time he wanted.

Sherlock paused to answer, finding that question redundant. "You think she's my girlfriend because I'm X-raying her possessions?" Not once his eyes went off that screen during her questions.

The specialist laughed nervously. "Well, we all do silly things."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, thinking back. "Yes." He mumbled, but then a thought occurred. People do silly things indeed.. "They do, don't they?" He asked turning to Molly who brought the thought to him. Her smile faded, "Very silly."

Helena tensed hearing Sherlock get to his feet. He removed the phone from the box like machine and turned it on, the locked screen showing. "She sent this to my address. She loves to play games."

"She does?" Molly's thoughts went down dirty when he said that. Of course they did. Helena rolled her eyes, and heard the buzzer sound, the code '221b' he put in was wrong. In frustration he placed the phone down and sat back onto the stool clicking all over the computer. Gulping, Molly asked, "So, what do you need to get into Helena's phone for?"

This question caused both of them to frown with confusion. "What makes you think this is Helena's phone?" He asked looking to Molly. "If I wanted to get into Helena's phone, I could do it at anytime."

Helena rolled her eyes, yeah right, she thought. Anytime? Doubt it.

Molly was confused herself now, her brows knotted. "I-Isn't that her phone?" She resisted from looking to said woman hiding on the other side of Sherlock.

"..No, it's not." Sherlock answered, he was about to return to his work, but then looked up in sudden annoyance. "You assume Helena is my girlfriend?"

The specialist gulped, had she pushed her limit line with him? "Well, she's the only woman who… well-" She gulped again. "You two spend a lot of time together." She got out avoiding eye contact with him.

First John now Molly was saying this? Who was next- Mycroft!? Helena expected Sherlock to start a long explanation on why they wouldn't, couldn't, and possibly shouldn't be together. She let a silent sigh out, wishing to re-position herself, sitting in an uncomfortable spot was aching her back and legs.

Sherlock stared at Molly for a good few seconds before looking back to the computer. "I spend a lot of time with John." He mentioned. Well, he wasn't wrong. "I've spent more time with John than Helena."

Molly chose not to retort to that statement. "Are you not a-a.. A thing?" She asked, though it seemed foolish it was brave of her as she felt she couldn't say or ask much to the emotionless man. "The way you interact and- seeing how you were at the Christmas party it just-" She swallowed finding she said enough to get the message across. This was mostly for Molly to establish the relationship between Sherlock and Helena, as she was confused what the two were exactly.

Once again, Helena waited for a spitfire answer, but another pause was given. She was tempted to peek over the counter, what was he doing? He would be shooting down her questions instantly without a second thought. She took a deep breath, and slowly rose herself up, just to see right over the top spotting Molly staring inquisitively at him. But Sherlock only stared off, was he in his mind palace?

_He reached over putting his hand over her's. "You're as cold as the hands in the fridge."_

It's true he wasn't a very physical contact person, he was pretty physical with Helena at times. She got hurt a lot thanks to his cases, so of course he was left to help. -Despite they had a doctor, timing wasn't right- He was gentle and soft with her; when he carried her out of Scotland Yard,

Was it in such a manner to make people think they were an item though? Helena had never really said anything.

Sherlock then remembered last night; his lips suddenly occupied by her's without any warning. But once again, she never had said anything. What would cause any attraction? Sherlock Holmes was married to his work, she knew this- everyone did! Sentimental is an error. If all this was logical in his head, why did his chest feel heavy?

Helena's head shot back down when Sherlock wiped his own to the side throwing the thoughts away. Too close. Sherlock looked to Molly who was waiting for a response this whole time. "Everyone seems to think so." Was what he said, "Have you asked her the same question?"

Oh, redirecting it to her? It wasn't a straight yes or no answer, instead he just countered her with another one. Was John right, actions speak louder than words?

Molly froze, she never really did, but also didn't know if she thought they were something as did others. As far as she knew, she just saw Helena with Sherlock all the time. Hearing they fought a lot, but had quiet moments like at the party. She, herself obviously liked Sherlock, but she didn't want to jeopardize anything if Helena really did like him the same way. Molly was no relationship weaker.

"No, umm.. It's just- you two are together a lot and-and- It's just a thought." She stuttered and turned away going back to her work.

Sherlock stared off, then back down thinking on it. Without a word, he stood pocketing the phone, slipping on his coat and grabbing his gloves and scarf. "Thank you, Molly." He uttered and rushed out off the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Molly hesitated, then when she heard the hall door slam, she walked over to Helena who was staring off in the distance herself. Oh, had she pushed far with Helena and not Sherlock? "..I'm sorry if I spoke for you too much.. Or at all." She apologized crouching down to her level.

Helena looked up, trance breaking. "Umm, no it's alright. I was holding my breath thinking he'd found me here."

She helped her to her feet, feeling relieved she didn't upset any of the two. Helena sighed checking her phone, it was near four o'clock. Without another word she walked out of the room, leaving Molly confused.

* * *

Helena had beaten Sherlock back to the flat, but not John. He gave her a small doctor scolding for not resting, saying she was lucky she hadn't taken any pain pills or else would've fallen asleep who knows where. The Tramp waved him off, six weeks with her arm like this she would be restless to go rooftop jumping after a week.

February arrived, when Helena would finally be off the sling. John sat with her at the couch, Sherlock with his laptop at the dining table. He glanced now and then seeing John testing to find any pain points or problems with her arm.

"No pain, no problems or anything?" He asked her as he pressed his thumb along her arm.

Helena shook her head. "Nothing at all." She assured, shrugging. "Am I sling-less now?"

John tilted his head in thought. "Yes, but I'd keep the brace on for a few more days. You can still do your- stuff." He told standing from the couch, whatever she or anyone called it. He turned back, "Gotta be careful with fract- Helena?"

Once he turned back to her, she was gone in a blink of an eye. He looked around, Sherlock just stared at his screen, but a grin was found. "Where'd she go?" He asked him.

Sherlock looked up, he gave a shrug. "No use is stopping her, she's halfway down the block by now."

"She's as reckless as ever." He muttered, falling to his chair with a sigh. "I don't blame her, she did the same thing when her eyes were wrapped."

"Hm." Sherlock hummed typing something quick, John shook his head, though he saw a grin on the detective's lips.

* * *

The rain pounded hard, Spring was cruel to those who wanted to just enjoy being outside. Maybe just Helena who wanted to chill out on the roofs. She sighed sitting under the cover over of a pharmacy store. Taking a peek, a heavy drop fell into her eye, "Damn rain." She cursed rubbing her eye, throwing her hood over her head folding her arms tightly.

Usually on these days, Helena would be at the flat waiting the rain out in the warm home like building. Her thoughts on spending days at the flat made her think if she was spending too much time there. Her heart sank, "I sound like Trevor…"

Helena leaned back against the building and sunk down huddling her knees to her chest. With Irene's damn phone and the risk behind it, the whole Trevor betraying her left her mind. How easily could that bastard Jim influenced her poor friend to go as far as near killing her brother and strapping a bomb to her and John?

The sudden vibration from her back pocket alerted her, Helena leaned back fishing her phone out seeing a text from a number she didn't know. Maybe it was a mistake, none the less she read it so she could correct the sender.

Her heart was already to her stomach from the previous thought, it just sank further at the words she read in the text.

**Bored little pet?  
I know a game to play.**

Even if there wasn't any indication who sent it, she knew who it was. Her hand shook at the memory of his voice, refusing to close her eyes to relive that moment. Should Helena reply- but with what? She jumped to her feet looking up and down the street, and across to the other, no one in sight. Was he currently watching her? If so, how and where? Her eyes shot back down to her phone screen, without realizing her fingers moved on their own.

**Who is this?  
This number only works for certain people.**

It took a few seconds to hit the enter button, but what felt like hours, a reply was made back to her.

**Then I must be special to you.**

Helena felt sick, her legs wobbled, making her fall back against the building. Quickly she turned down the alley between buildings, looking back before walking to calm her speeding heart rate. The text continued.

**We shared some time together  
How could I not get your number?**

This made no sense to Helena, why now was he contacting her? Why at all!? To fuck with her head?

**What the hell could you possibly wan**

Helena hesitated, and deleted the text. If she kept responding, it'd be feeding the fire. He wants her to respond, fall into his hands. Looking around, she instead pocketed her phone and climbed a fire escape. Being careful with the rain making the metal wet, she got to the roof. Not caring she was getting soaked, she needed to keep her eyes open in case anything happened. Her phone let an alert out.

**Aw, don't ignore me.  
I wrote you a poem.  
I know something you had done,  
Way back when you were young.  
You were desperate to live and breathe,  
Enough to sleep with all to please.  
If you don't want Sherlock to know,  
Get the phone you dirty hoe.**

Her mind went black, hand trembled over her hand. How? How!? How did he know!? She expected Sherlock or Mycroft to know but… how? That was the past, she put that behind her, fixed herself became who she is today. If it was in the phone, Irene knew. That's why she knew who she was, not just for her reputation or being on John's blog. She knew her past, as did Jim Moriarty.

The phone fell from her hand clattering to the wet roof, did Sherlock know already? What evidence did she reveal if so? ...What would he think if her? No, h- he couldn't know. He would've mentioned it in a deduction like he always does. There was half of her mind that assured Sherlock wouldn't give a damn, but the other half was screaming how wrong she was. How screwed she would be if _anyone_ knew.

* * *

The weeks soon become months, no more incidents on the phone were made since New Years. Helena and John hadn't even seen or heard the damn device, so they guessed Sherlock hid it away. Helena was back to the streets but kept herself close to the flat in case anything happened like last time. The weather had gotten warmer for Spring, but still chilly as London usually was.

The Tramp thought back on that texting incident, she hasn't tried to get the phone at all. But pressure was growing on her, fearful of Sherlock getting that code through. She texted John saying she'd come visit, though he has't replied. Possibly away from his phone, but if away from the flat she'd wait for them to return. Going to the back of the building, she noticed Sherlock's window was open, so Sherlock -if not both- had to be there. Helena made her climb up, and slid through the window with ease. Before leaving the room, bedroom door closed, she took noticed of the blankets on the bed being a mess. Her brows knotted- he couldn't have _just_ woken up, it was past noon. Unless he was drugged, again; low possibility. She then heard the water running in the shower, oh he could be there now.

Helena opened the door and left down the hall, she entered the kitchen and passed the entry way. She was faced with the two men she was meeting- John and Sherlock. John stood instantly when he saw her come into the room. "Helena, I didn't know you were coming."

She frowned, making her way to the center of the room, two men sitting in their chairs. "I sent a text, didn't you get it?"

John reached for his phone, though must not have been on him currently. "Oh, um, no not really. Sorry."

He seemed flustered, Helena looked to Sherlock was just stared down the hall. She looked down, still hearing the water running. "Who else is here?"

John flexed his hand at his side, he glanced to Sherlock then back to Helena. He forgot that Helena had no idea, they never told her. She spread her arms out in exasperation, waiting for an answer. "Well, is it a client? Someone we know? An answer would be nice."

"It is someone you know." Sherlock cooly told earning a look from her.

John stepped up, hands rose as if to calm her. "But, promise you won't freak out."

Helena looked between the two with narrowed eyes. She took a breath crossing her arms, "Is it my brother?"

"No, sorry to say."

John's arms fell, Helena had a look of shock knowing that voice. She turned spotting a woman in Sherlock's blue robe, leaning on the doorway; hair wet sticking to her neck, fresh from the shower. Helena's throat hitched, it couldn't be, she was dead. This couldn't be Irene Adler.

A grin stretched upon Irene's lips. "It's been so long, Stray."

Shock turned to anger, but without a word, Helena walks to the couch and flops down arms crossed. She couldn't even think to manage a word out let alone figure who to blame for knowing; John or Sherlock. Sherlock and John changed seats at the chairs, Sherlock moving one dining chair to the center of the room while Irene took Sherlock's armchair, sitting at the edge. Usually when a they had a client, the men sat in their armchairs, and the client in the single dining chair. It was different, it looked more like an interrogation, which made sense with how much trouble Irene's phone has caused them all.

After a bit of silence, Sherlock finally asked, "So who's after you?"

"People who want to kill me." She responded in near sarcasm.

"Who's that?"

She grinned at him. "Killers."

Helena rolled her eyes, "This is great progress." she commented.

John gave a glance, "It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific."

"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them."

"It worked for a while." She praised looking to Helena for a second.

"Except you let John know-" A glare was sent to the back of John's head. "-that you were alive, and therefore me."

"Wish I knew.." Helena muttered.

Irene grinned looking away. "I knew _you'd_ keep my secret. Don't know about your pet."

"_You _couldn't." Sherlock told curtly.

"But you _did_." She leaned back looking around. "Where's my camera phone?"

"It's not here." John told putting his cup of tea down he was drinking. "We're not stupid."

"Then what have you done with it?" If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."

"They've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago."

That explained why Helena and John didn't hear that damned alert for so long. "I need it." She insisted.

John looked between the two. "Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?"

"I can." Helena volunteered jumping to her feet. Anything to get away from Irene, and maybe get rid of that phone for good.

"Too dangerous." Sherlock dismissed.

John nodded in agreement, he looked to Sherlock with an idea. "Molly Hooper." Sherlock finally broke his stare on Irene to turn to his flatmate. "She could collect it, take it to Bart's. Then one of your homeless network -not Helena- could bring it here, leave it in the cafe, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back."

Sherlock smiled. "Very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions."

"Thank you." He picked his phone up, "So, why don't-" but a hand came and brought his arm down, he looked up, Helena nodded to Sherlock- he was already holding the dreaded device. "Oh for…" He dropped his phone onto the table, why did he even try.

At the sight of the phone, Irene stood as Sherlock looks it over. "So what do you keep on here- in general, I mean?"

She folded her arms, "Pictures, information, anything I might find useful."

"What, for blackmail?" John asked.

"For protection." She defended. "I make my way in the world, I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."

"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock asked.

"I told you; I misbehave." She hissed out, a look was given to Helena who cringed.

"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?"

"Yes." She paused. "But I don't understand it."

"I assumed. Show me." Irene held her hand out, expecting the phone. Though Sherlock held it back out of reach. Helena stood by tempted to snatch it out of his hand. "The passcode."

Her hand doesn't move, the two stare for a while until Sherlock caves and moved forward handing the phone to her. Helena flinched, how could he just hand it over so easily- ohh. After she put the code it, a warning beep emitted from it. "It's not working."

Sherlock hid a smirk standing up and taking the phone. "No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one oh five eight."

He passed by her to get to his armchair, reaching under the cushion pulling the _real_ device out, revealing she had been sitting on her phone that whole time. John grinned, Sherlock easily outsmart her.

"I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that but, um, thanks anyway." He came back around proudly holding her phone up.

The lock screen popped up, Helena felt tense attempting to peek over to see if it would actually unlock. She felt her heart beat fast as he put the numbers in, hit enter.

WRONG PASSCODE

1 ATTEMPT REMAINING

Helena turned away with a sigh, John glanced over as Sherlock frowned over at the screen. He looked to Irene who was grinning like a cat. "I told you that camera phone is my life. I know when it's in my hand."

Sherlock was… impressed. "Oh, you're rather good."

Her hand came out open, taking the _real_ phone from him. "You're not so bad." She purred.

John frowns in what looks to be confusion and disgust. Helena chewed her lip shaking her head, was it going to be this all over again with her back?

"Hamish." Eyes shot to the doctor who broke the stare- much to Helena's relief. "John Hamish Watson- just if you were looking for baby names."

Helena snorts a giggle, Sherlock frowned in confusion to his suggestion.

* * *

Thank you tibreezy, GaztheDestroyer, Selene Isis Morgan, WhiteStag2019, Thetroublewithexes, NekoAria14, everything-is-black-and-white, Yuu Annoya Me, Goddess of the Written Word, . , ChanelisEverything, slash95, PomegranateAndBooks, 18TSMarley, freakyreader, Scarletknight17, mucasara, bored411, RockingHorseFly, MoonlightWolf16, Randomness is Awesome, XxHeartMenderxX, MiisSexyBaby, OodlesOfOz, eph1027, xxPeppermintxx109, for the favorites and follows for the story!

Guest- Aha! Caught you off guard with it, huh!? I haven't written a real kiss scene since my weaboo stage, so I struggled to make it well written and… not weaboo...ish? Ah, where indeed is the present? Well, just remember that detail is important. Maybe it was already shown? Ohhhh~ Thanks for enjoying it and hope you enjoy the end of this story arc!

KilalaInara- I always loved it as well! I felt it showed him that she wasn't a weak old lady as everyone saw her as. I feel no matter who Sherlock and John meet or befriend, they got something that doesn't make them normal- what is normal? Who knows.

Scarletknight17- Thanks! A lot of writers make her just as smart as Sherlock, but there are times I want her out of a loop so she's not too smart. Like, as if they know the plot before the actual characters? Yea that shit. Thanks for the love, I think she's honestly my favorite, wish I could draw her for you and the others to see!

Bored411- Thank you, Helena might just be my favorite OC I ever made. Trust me, I got more than you see listed in my stories. Ah, the gift, what could it be? Maybe he did open it maybe he didn't, always check for details darling!

xxPeppermintxx109- Aww thanks! That means so much! I felt for the past few weeks I wasn't writing her right, didn't want her jealous or anything like people always right. I want to go different ways, so I research, read, then write. Oh god no, I write long chapters and to me, it depends where in the story plot would it be perfect to confess their feelings… If they find them.

So so so sorry this one took forever, but finally got my brain kicking again! It's been cold as balls here so I've been feeling sleepy and unable to get work done. But here we go! I finished this 4am with a headache so if anything is confusing let me know I'll fix it.


	29. Chapter 29

"There was a man-" Irene spoke walking swiftly past Sherlock looking down at her phone, putting a good distance between her and the boys. "An MOD official. I knew what he liked."

The sound of pings indicated she was unlocking the screen, Helena was sadly facing the wrong away where Irene stood by the chair Sherlock left. If Helena wanted to- no, she _needed _to snatch that phone and get rid of it. But with what was happening now, the Tramp simply took her spot back at John's chair watching silently.

"One of the things he liked was showing off." She glanced to Sherlock, indicating the same to him. "He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it." Much to Helena's surprise she handed the photo to Sherlock, a photo shown on the screen. "He was a bit tied up at the time." Helena rolled her eyes as they all watched Sherlock scan the photo.

"It's a bit small on the screen, can you read it?"

Sherlock sat down at the dining table, opposite of John narrowing at the screen. "Yes." He answered, seeing '007 confirmed allocation' and a long string of numbers.

"A code, obviously." Irene indicated to the numbers. "I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it. Though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out."

Be it a sexual reference or not, Helena only stared off into the distance, trying to block any more talk on it. The more mentioned, the more it made her think of that damned text Jim warned her about. She took in a deep breath and released through her nostrils giving them a flare to keep her nerves calm, she looked back seeing Sherlock focusing deeply on the screen.

"What can _you_ do, Mr. Holmes?" Irene leaned in over his shoulder, John watch sipping his tea. "Go on." She encouraged, "Impress a girl."

Whether Sherlock noticed or not, Irene's lips were close to his high cheeks, though with his focus on this code, Helena could see why he wouldn't see it. But Helena herself hadn't noticed her nails digging into the arm chair watching this occur. Once her lips made contact with skin, she pulled away grinning as Sherlock gave a side look. Within a second, he spoke.

"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds."

Silence- he looked up to John finding the usual blank face, then to Irene for a reaction but all he got was just as lost. Finally, he looked to Helena, but she wasn't in the seat anymore. Hearing noises from the kitchen indicated that where she was. Unusual.

"Oh, come on." He said getting his attention back to the task. "These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look-"

In the kitchen, Helena poured herself some tea, not caring it was cold. She quickly downed the small cup and placed it on the counter by the sink and leaned. What was coming over her? For a split second she was fearful of some whisper being said, but it was just a kiss. Who cared, she shook her head thinking, who cares.

Irene Adler manipulates people to get what she wanted, and that's exactly what she was doing to Helena. She pulled her phone out looking over that text again. It haunted her, more than anything has. Helena wouldn't care people's thoughts on her appearance, life, or past. Why now- why did she care so much what John, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, even Mycroft thought of her. She wouldn't before so why now?

Helena knew why- because they were all she had. Sure, she had her brother back but with what limitations. She had to be careful for his safety and to keep his mother from knowing. Other than him, she had no family.

Feeling the trembles leave her hands, she pocketed her phone and returned to the room, just in time for Sherlock to figure out the photo of numbers.

"Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John's expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English Language. Helena keeps up well enough, but I'm sure she is just as impressed." He spoke nodded to the two.

Helena tilted her head, "I'll take that as a praise."

Irene stared intensely at him like a hungry lion. "I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice."

John and Helena watched the two stare deeply- was something going to happen? John glanced to Helena who gave a look unsure what was happening, she had only just now walked in. She made her way behind John standing by the window, feeling awkward like a third wheel.

Sherlock spoke but never broke eye contact. "John, Please can you check those flight schedules, see if I'm right?"

Helena nudged John to stop staring at the two himself, he was no better. He looked to her, and then down at the laptop. "Uh-huh. I'm on it, yeah." He cleared his throat focusing on the search Sherlock requested.

Helena watched the laptop screen, but still heard the two. "I've never begged for mercy in my life." Sherlock retorted lowly to her.

"Twice." She quickly added.

Helena shot back to the screen, near barking in John's ear. "Found it!"

John was a bit stunned between the possible sexual tension and Helena's sudden shout. "Uh, yeah, you're right. Uh, flight double oh seven."

Something caught Sherlock's attention, he broke eye contact and looked to the two. "What did you say?"

"You're right." He quickly repeated.

"No, no, no, after that." His brows were

"Double oh seven," Helena repeated looking at the screen pointing at the words. "Flight double oh seven. Is that important?"

Sherlock looked up, repeating those three numbers to himself. Gently pushing pass Irene he passed around the room saying the same numbers. The three watched as he battled about in his mind to figure out this small clue. He stopped in front of the mirror, eyes tightly shut trying to hard to think of the answer.

"Double oh seven, double of seven, what, what, something, _what_?" Eyes shot open, he turned toward the living room doorway, a memory shooting through.

"_Bond air is go." _Escaped Mycroft's lips, many oh so, many months ago. Sherlock remembered, he returned on the phone hearing the words. "_Bond air is go."_

* * *

Minutes, hours; so long went by and Sherlock hadn't really broke from his mind palace despite speaking and moving about interacting with things. He now sat in his arm chair by the now lit fireplace, plucking the strings of his violin. Within these past hours night had fallen, John was gone, and Irene was alone with the spaced out detective. He spoke now and then as if John was here, but he told it was normal and it was best to leave him be. As Irene did content having him to herself- well, not completely.

Helena was still there but kept herself in the kitchen, Irene noticed she wouldn't talk to her but when her eyes fell on her phone she had a pale look went to find something to distract herself. With Sherlock in his state, she decided to _bond_ with the Tramp. Still in Sherlock's blue robe, hair hung about but now dry, Irene strode into the kitchen finding Helena toying with Sherlock's test tubes. She took a seat across from her, seeing her gaze was down at the table surface.

"Haven't made the move yet, darling?" She asked arms crossed on top the table with a smile gracing her features.

Helena paused her poking at the shorted tube, glancing up at The Woman, she sighed and turned away. "Wish people would get off me on that."

"I'll take that as a no."

"Well, of course _no_," She spat softly, looking to Sherlock knowing he needed silence to concentrate in his mind palace. "Sherlock is married to his work, has no interest in a relationship, and clearly is a-"

"You're wrong."

"Hm- yup. Meanwhile some American bastards have been after that stupid phone." Helena held an accusing finger out at her. "The poor landlady was held captive and was _hurt_ because of you." She hissed out. "You also go and pretend you're _dead_ putting Sherlock in a state I've never seen before."

This made Irene's grin widen. "And yet you claim him to be a sociopath."

Helena frowned, seeing her try to change the subject. "Yes, he claims to be a sociopath, but he cares for those around him." She sighed combing her fingers roughly through her hair, not caring the outcome of her

"Why would he care about the danger of those around him? Why would he care if some _woman_ with a phone of secrets die on the spot?" Helena's hand rested on the table as she leaned back listening to her. "...Why would he care for you?"

The Tramp didn't speak, her gaze lowered spotting the damned phone in one of Irene's hands. She hasn't put it down or let go of it since she got it from Sherlock hours ago. Could she ask for that information gone, if it was true. Helena had been thinking for hours, Jim could just screwing with her for fun. But at the same time, it made sense why Irene Adler knew her when first meeting.

"He can care, but love is an error to him." Helena responded looking up at Irene. "...You have every information on people with that phone?"

Irene looked to her phone shrugging. "Not everyone, only those who can aid me or bring me protection."

She gulped preparing her next question. "Even me?"

Irene watched her, almost waiting for anything else for Helena to say. The strings of the violin still heard from Sherlock in the other room. Soon, The Woman stood giving Helena a single wink and walked out to sit across from Sherlock who kept his mind at work.

With no answer, Helena sighed heavily resting her head on the table, facing away from the two. With no answer, how was she to know if Jim was telling the truth or not?

No- she couldn't let this get to her. This is exactly what he wanted from her.

* * *

"Coventry." Sherlock spoke out, pausing his violin plucking.

"Never been there." Irene responded, gaining the detective's attention. "Is it nice?"

Sherlock seemed a bit surprised to find Irene sitting there watching him. Had she been staring at him this entire time? Though he composed himself, no surprised she was still here. Although John was nowhere to be found.

"Where's John?" He asked.

"He went out a couple of hours ago."

His brows knotted, how could that be. "I was just talking to him." He assured, eyes scanning the room for sure he wasn't completely alone with this woman.

Though Irene smiled at his confusion, "He said you do that."

His eyes scanned again, John wasn't the only one. "Helena?"

Irene looked over her shoulder to the kitchen, Sherlock spotted the girl laying her head down facing away. "She's alright, just a bit…" She shrugged. "Overwhelmed?"

Sherlock sighed, he was a tad relieved he wasn't _completely_ alone with her. He placed his violin down seeing Helena's back rise and fall, she was alright.

"What's Coventry got to do with anything?" She asked.

Sherlock took in some air, and answered. "It's a story, probably not true. In the Second World War, the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they'd broken the German code but they didn't want the Germans to _know_ that they'd broken the code, so they let it happen anyway."

Irene had taken notice that Sherlock was doing his best to avoid eye contact by looking to the side of the room or glancing toward the kitchen; toward Helena.

The grin stayed on her lips, "Have you ever had anybody?"

Sherlock frowned, she had this thing for changing the subject without warning. It for sure put him in a small loop at times. "Sorry?" He questioned slowly.

"And when I say 'had', I'm being indelicate."

"I don't understand."

Irene stood, "Well, I'll be delicate then." she kneeled in front of Sherlock, placing her hand gently on top of his own, eyes locked onto him. "Let's have dinner."

Sherlock replied instantly. "Why?"

"Might be hungry."

"I'm not."

"Good."

Sherlock showed hesitance, giving one final glance to the kitchen, Helena's figure out of his sight. "Why would I have dinner-" He inturn leaned forward a bit, turning his palm upwards pressing his fingers around her wrist. "if I wasn't hungry?"

Slowly, Irene leans inturn towards him, gazing down onto his 'virgin' lips. "Oh, Mr. Holmes…" She purred, feeling his fingers stroke the veins of her wrist. "...If it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me?"

Within those seconds, that were feeling longer at the touches they made, Sherlock couldn't reply. As he heard the call of "Sherlock!" from a elder woman, his eyes shooting to the doorway.

"Too late." Irene whispered finally breaking contact.

"That's not the end of the world, that's Mrs. Hudson." He corrected her.

The sounds of footsteps bounding upstairs, alerted the two to separate. Helena, who was shockingly still here, arrived in first just to get a glimpse of Irene moving away from Sherlock who leaned back in his chair. She looked between the two without a word, only to earning a grin from Irene and a expected explanation look from Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson finally came in, a man in a suit following up after the two ladies. "Sherlock, this man was at the door. Is the bell still not working?" She turned to the man apologetically but had a finger pointing at the detective. "He shot it."

Helena rolled her eyes at that, arms crossed remembering the last time men in suits came for them.

"Have you come to take us away _again_?" Sherlock questioned with short look of patience.

The man passed through the women, "Yes, Mr. Holmes."

"Well, we decline." He said sharply looking away.

The man pulled a envelope out from his jacket, "I don't think you do." and held it out to Sherlock. He glances up and snatches the damned thing checking inside. He finds a plane ticket, business class to Flyaway Airways in the name of Sherlock Holmes for flight number 007 to Baltimore. It leaves at 6:30, Sherlock looked up at Helena who held up her own ticket.

Without a word, Helena and Sherlock got their coats on -along with Sherlock's scarf and gloves- and left the flat to a car parked in front.

"Is it safe to leave _her_ with Mrs. Hudson?" Helena asked as Sherlock opened the door for her to get in first.

"She'll be fine." He assured, nodding her to climb in.

She did so, Sherlock climbing in afterwards with the man sitting in the front passenger seat. Soon the car pulled out, Helena glanced back watching the flat before it went out of her sight.

Sherlock took his ticket out looking it over. "There's going to be a bomb on a passenger jet."

Helena turned to him in shock. "What?"

He continued, "The British and American governments know about it but rather than expose the source of that information they're going to let it happen. The plane will blow up." He paused thinking of that word. "Coventry all over again. The wheel turns. _Nothing_ is ever new."

The two men in front don't respond, but lucky for Sherlock Helena did. "But, why not just stop? This isn't World War II, this is terrorist work." He looked to her as he toyed with his ticket. "The only reason they did it then was to not let them change the code and repeat that process of breaking it all over again. This is different."

He could see she was shocked by this, and clearly angered. "Once we arrive, you can inform them on that." He assured looking back out the window.

* * *

The drive wasn't too long, -for Helena it seemed to last forever- but they arrived at the airport soon enough. Helena had never stepped onto a plane before or been at an airport. Being with Sherlock in these cases had these perks. The car soon curled around a jumbo jet resting on the tarmac, once the car parked the two got out of the car. They spotted a familiar American at the bottom of the stairs to the plane, which caused Helena to hesitate between fear and anger. Though, Sherlock kept a hand on her shoulder, almost assuring her she would be fine with him near.

"Well, you're lookin' all better." He spoke in a condescending American accent, as Neilson looked to them. "How ya feelin'?" The accent reminded Helena of her own American friend.

"Like putting a bullet in your brain, sir." He responded, clearly he was trying to give a upper hand. But Helena was sure that 'sir' was like poison in his mouth.

Sherlock just lets out a chuckle, and pocketed his ticket before letting Helena up first for safety as he followed closely after. "They'd pin a medal on me if I did…" The two paused, Helena's knuckles crack as her anger now overshadowed her fear. "...sir."

The tall man half turned, thinking to show him a thing a two. He decides against it, turning Helena forward, continuing up into the plan. "I'll show him where he can _pin_ that medal." She grumbled giving a glare over her shoulder.

"I'm sure you will." Sherlock agreed, amused at how fast Helena's emotions could change by a comment. One minute terrified, the next ready to break a jaw.

The two stepped into the plane, Helena drew the curtain back as they walked slowly down the aisle looking around. Dim lights, but they were able to see the seats were filled with sleeping people. Helena looked all over while Sherlock inspected the passengers near him. No movement, no color, no breathing. Sherlock lit a overhead light inspecting two men, he then realized.

"...Sherlock are they?"

"Dead." He confirmed, she turned to him shocked. "There's no sign of decomposition, yet the gray skin shows they have been dead for a good while."

Helena blinks at the sight before her, hand covering her mouth, "Everyone? But-"

"The Coventry conundrum." The two sharply turned finding the curtain drawn back, Mycroft Holmes emerged. "What do you think of my solution?" Sherlock gazes around, taking in this revelation. "The flight of the dead."

"The plane blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies." Sherlock indicated looking around.

"Neat, don't you think?" Sherlock gave a short smile of amusement. "You've been stumbling round the fringes of this one for ages- or were you too bored to notice the pattern?"

Helena frowned and looked to Sherlock, who snapped his head to the side remembering those two clients he had. The two girls for their granddad, and the man for his aunt's 'ashes'. She turned back to Mycroft, "Coventry; like in WWII?"

The elder Holmes nodded to her, "We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our passengers didn't make the flight."

Helena's eyes went wide in remembrance. That one in the trunk!

Mycroft tilted his head to the side. "But that's the deceased for you; late, in every sense of the word.

"If everyone here is dead, how will the plane fly?" She asked motioning to the dead bodies around her.

"Unmanned aircraft." Sherlock answered her. "Hardly new."

"It _doesn't_ fly." Mycroft corrected. "It will _never _fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb." Helena turned to Sherlock who nodded with her earlier indication in the car; that's why. "We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished."

"Your MOD man." Sherlock concurred.

Helena's gaze went down, remembering Irene's telling of this MOD man. "That's all it takes: one lonely naive man desperate to show off," Her hands covered her face, realizing it all with a heavy feeling falling from her chest to her stomach.

"Hmm. You should screen your defense people more carefully." His attitude was high but his gaze was down at Helena, was she alright?

Mycroft voice rose furiously. "I'm not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock! I'm talking about _you_." He spat slamming the tip of his umbrella onto the floor.

The detective looked up with true confusion, Helena turned to him chewing her lip. Her brows shooting up, she knew what Mycroft was talking about. For once, Helena was ahead of him in the game.

"The damsel in distress." His voice lowered with a cynical smile. "In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was the textbook: the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption- then give him a puzzle," He twirled his umbrella a bit in the air. "and watch him dance."

"Oh, Sherlock…" Helena groaned dropping her hands to her side and looking up at the ceiling of the plane.

Sherlock gave her a look, finding her reaction to all this a bit dramatic. "Don't be absurd." He told the two frowning deeply.

"Absurd?" Mycroft questioned, "How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really _eager_ to impress?"

"I think it was less than five seconds."

The two looked over to the other end of the plane, Irene Adler arrived. Her hair properly styled, makeup perfectly done, and of course in a beautiful dress. The Woman was now here; that damned grin playing on her red lips.

"I drove you into her path." Helena turned back to Mycroft, seeing regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry." His eyes lowered downward, shame of doing such a thing to his brother. "I didn't know."

Irene walk towards Sherlock. "Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk."

"So do I." Sherlock agreed, "There are a number of aspects I'm still not quite clear on-"

"Not you, Junior." She brushed past him, "You're done now." and past Helena giving a look that made her shudder with anger. She stops at Mycroft, activated her phone and showed it to the elder brother as the screen glowed with life.

"There's more, loads more. On this phone I've got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world." Mycroft near squirmed at her words and gaze, he couldn't even hold his own to her and kept looking away. "You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me- unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother."

That hit Mycroft hard, she was threatening to tell this whole plan was thanks to Sherlock. Helena knew how protective he was to his little brother, he'd have no choice but to accept Irene's wishes. The Hawk, instead risked to reach out in attempt to snatch the phone from her.

"I wouldn't, Darling. Wouldn't want that secret of yours out, would you." Helena's hand froze, she wouldn't dare. Irene glanced over her shoulder. "Though, I do have it memorized word for word."

"You're bluffing." She called shaking her head.

"Am I?" She gave a challenging look, Helena's eyes widened realizing her mistake. "Helena Shaw; not only had criminal offenses to pick pocketing and selling the items to pawn shops, you're first criminal offense was at the age of sixteen with the number good of _customers _involved." Irene watched her trembling hand lower, eyes wide wishing for her to stop. "Shall I go on?"

Helena's head shook softly, "Don't say another word." Her voice shook trying to give a threatening vibe.

"Over forty customers, prices vary- picky are we?" She teased tilting her head. Helena felt Sherlock's eyes on her, she saw Mycroft's look to her now and again between The Woman and her. "Prices between twenty to thirty five pounds for an hour. Impressive."

"Please stop-"

"That's not what you've said to your customers."

"SHUT UP!" Helena cried covering her ears not wanting to hear anymore. She had put this all behind her, and it was back up to haunt her. Her eyes tightly closed, she couldn't bare to look at Mycroft nor Sherlock, they had to have caught on by now.

"We're not so different, are we?"

Helena had been a prostitute.

* * *

Without a second word muttered, Mycroft had taken Irene, Sherlock, and Helena to his residence, -hard to tell with Mycroft- to discuss about the phone and what Irene would want. Mycroft sat across from The Woman at a table ready to figure out a loophole to get the information off that phone. Sherlock sat far from the two, by the lit fireplace curling his fingers against his thigh. Helena, she was hiding herself in the darkest part of the room at the other end by the windows, still within earshot but far enough to feel out of sight. Resting on the table between Irene and Mycroft, as the elder Holmes' mind cranked.

"We have people who can get into this." He indicated pointing at the phone.

"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for six months." Sherlock pressed his knuckles to his lips, he closed his eyes at that answer with a scowl. "Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found when you X-rayed my camera phone."

Sherlock answered quickly, "There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive." Mycroft's head rested in his hand at this, Helena watched on seeing the anxiety grow on him. "Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive."

"Explosive." Irene purred eyeing Mycroft. "It's more me."

He lifted his head back up at her. "Some data is always recoverable."

"Take that risk?"

"You have a passcode to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you."

"Sherlock?" Irene softly called to him.

"There will be two passcodes: one to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even under duress you can't know which one she's given you and there will be no point in a second attempt."

Irene eyed him earnestly. "He's good, isn't he? I should have him on a leash- in fact, I _might_."

**SLAM**

Eyes shot to the window seeing Helena's shaking fist had slammed down onto the table surface. Sherlock had finally turned seeing his 'bird' glare The Woman. Said female only looked Helena up and down, "Did that anger you or arouse you?"

Her voice shook, with not the same tone as before on the plane. "Don't talk about Sherlock in such a _sick_ way." She hissed, her face scrunched up tightly.

"Would you prefer the leash? You seem to be well inversed of being ordered about." Irene teased, Helena's teeth clenched hard as if her jaw would break at any moment.

"Helena, sit down." Sherlock told nodding her to leave them. It would be best if she was far from them instead of far from him. Helena simply walked past Mycroft and stood by the fireplace, not making eye contact with Sherlock or Irene, as she sneered at her.

Mycroft cleared his throat wanting attention back on the phone, "We destroy this, then." he suggested lifting the phone up. "_No one_ has the information."

Irene looked back to him, "Fine. Good idea- unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you're about to burn."

"Are there?"

"Telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing any more." She warned, before going into her bag taking out a folded piece of paper and sliding to Mycoft. "A list of my requests; and some ideas about my protection once they're granted." He takes it, unfolding it ready to read what said requests were.

"I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a hole in the wealth of the nation. But then I'd be lying." Mycroft's brows rose at the list upon the paper. "I imagine you'd like to sleep on it." She offered.

"Thank you, yes."

"Too bad." He looked up at her, the stress seemed to rise at that. Sherlock somehow found that slightly amusing, Helena rolled her eyes her arms folded tightly against her.

"Off you pop and talk to people."

The elder Holmes sighed sinking in his chair, glancing back at the list once more. "You've been very..._thorough_. I wish our lot were half as good as you."

"I can't take all the credit. Had a bit of help." She turned towards Sherlock. "Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love."

Sherlock's head rose at those words, he glanced to Helena her tightly wrapped her arms around herself, clearly shuddered by the name mentioned.

"Yes," Mycroft replied. "he's been in touch. Seems desperate for my attention, which I'm sure can be arranged."

Irene stood, "I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it." walking around to Mycroft reseating at the edge of the table before him. "Thank God for the consultant criminal. Gave me a lot of advice on how to play with the Holmes boys, and their pet."

Helena bit her lip at that. "D'yknow what he calls you?" She whispered softly at Mycroft, "The Ice man," turned to Sherlock, "The Virgin," then to Helena tilting her head for a moment. "He did call you Bird, but he might change that to The Tramp."

A name Helena took in greatly for as a street urchin, now it had a second meaning she wished to erase. She stole a look to Sherlock, she couldn't tell if his stare was from the comments to names or… something else.

"Didn't ask for anything. I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now _that's_ my kind of man." Irene boldly told, Sherlock closed his eyes sighing with dread.

"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees." Mycroft stood and rewarded Irene with a short bow, holding the paper she gave him. "Nicely played."

"No."

The two looked to Sherlock, "I'm sorry?" had he spoke, it was a low tone after all.

He took in some air, turning his head toward them. "I said no. _Very_ very close, but no." He shot to his feet causing Helena to look over. "You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much."She moved back as he made his way to his brother and The Woman. What was going on in his head?

"There's no such thing as too much." Irene countered, amused at how far Sherlock was still going over this 'game'.

"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine, craving the distraction of the game -I sympathize entirely- but sentiment?" He stared down at her with narrowed eyes. "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."

"Sentiment?" She questioned. "What are you talking about?"

"...You."

Irene kept a calm smile, she found this accusation quite amusing. Helena looked between her and Sherlock, she wanted an input on this, but couldn't find her voice.

"Oh dear God. Look at the poor man." She pitied. "You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?" Her eyes shot to Helena for a second. "Would explain _someone's_-"

"No." Sherlock told softly, walking closer gaining her attention again as their bodies became inches apart- near touching. His hand gently wrapped around her wrist, he leaned to the side of her ear and whispered, "Because I took your pulse."

Something came to realization to Irene as her smile faltered, Sherlock's grip tightened feeling her heart beat change tempo. "Elevated; your pupils dilated."

Helena remembered at one point Sherlock and her had done the same thing when questioning one another, to make sure they were telling the truth. She felt the corner of her mouth stretch upwards, finally a light to this situation.

Sherlock leaned past her, grabbing the phone and turning away, voice at a level volume now. "I imagine John Watson thinks love's a mystery to me but the chemistry is incredibly simple, and very destructive."

Irene followed him close behind, he soon turned to her stopping in his pace. "When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you; the combination to your safe- your measurements. But this-" He tossed the phone in the air and brought up the locked screen. "This is your heart,"

**Beep**

"and you should _never_ let it rule your head."

Panic starts to grow in her eyes, never breaking her stare with Sherlock.

"You could've chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for."

**Beep**

"But you just couldn't resist, could you?"

Irene's breathing weighs more, Sherlock paused to give a short smile.

"I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage,"

**Beep**

"_Thank _ you for the final proof."

Just as he is about to put in the final key, Irene grabs his hand, desperation in her eyes. "Everything I said- it's not real." Mycroft looked to Helena, who was watching with a tense stance. "I was just playing the game." She whispered to him.

"I know." He replied pulling his hand free and pressing the final key. "And this is just losing."

Just as tears trail from her eyes, he lifts the screen showing her, Mycroft, and Helena the true code.

I AM

**SHER**

LOCKED

Irene was in despair, Sherlock held it out for his brother with his eyes still locked onto her. "There you are, brother." Mycroft walked over gladly taking the phone, Helena was in complete awe staying silent for the whole duration.

"I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight."

"I'm certain they will." He assured.

"Come, Helena." He called. Snapping out of it, she walked passed the two following Sherlock as he made his way toward the door. "If you're feeling kind, lock her up; otherwise let her go. I doubt she'll survive long."

"Are you expecting me to beg?" Irene questioned.

"Yes." He replied flatly, pausing in his leave. Helena looked between the two, she saw more tears threatening to stain her face, truly he had broken her.

"Please. You're right." He looked to her. "I won't even last six months."

All he had to say to her, after all this time of this 'game', he said. "Sorry about dinner." Before he continued, he stepped back. "Oh, and one request with that phone, Mycroft." His brother looked up, brows knotting at this.

"Delete anything and everything about Helena Shaw, if you please." Without a response he took Helena's hand pulling her in front of him, and left leading her out without a second look to The Woman.

* * *

Sherlock checked his watch seeing it was about quarter to eleven. Time had passed without a notice, and how it was time to go back to the flat with another closed case. In the cab, both he and Helena sat in silence. She hadn't spoken a word since her outburst with Miss Adler, nor had she even looked to Sherlock. Her brown eyes stared outside, she looked tired- but Sherlock knew that wasn't the case. His own blue shifted to his own window, his gaze was short seeing something in the corner of his vision. Turning back, he found Helena holding her phone out to him still refusing to look toward him.

"What's this?" He asked looking to the phone then to her.

"My phone."

Sherlock resisted to roll his eyes, "I see that, is there something you need to show me on it?"

"My resignation?" He turned his head at that frowning. "You know my secret, something I never want anyone to know. A shameful… _filthy _secret." Helena paused with a take of her breath. "I understand, you don't want to see the sight of a disgusting person like me."

Helena felt her world cracking, but this had to be done. Sherlock would drop her for sure. Feeling no hand take the phone, Helena dropped it on the empty seat between them, and leaned over asking the driver to pull over. Sherlock felt things spinning, was Helena really leaving? With the road empty, the driver easily pulled over to the curb. The 'Tramp' got right out, Sherlock was quick enough to take her phone and chuck whatever money he had at the driver and go after her.

"Where do you think you're going?" He questioned, thunder threatening above them. She just kept walking down the street, their cab gone now.

"Back where I belong!" She barked back taking longer steps, thanks to Sherlock's long legs he caught up with ease.

"And where's that?" He reached out taking her arm, and pulled her back to stop her. "Back on the streets. Stealing for money and scrounging for scraps. What life is that?"

"My life." She replied thickly.

Sherlock kept his hold tight on her, he knew her well. She ran away when trouble arose with her, whenever they both had a fight. "No it's not." Another rumble of thunder.

"Yes, it is." She hissed.

"Not anymore."

Finally Helena turned to him, yelling. "I'LL ALWAYS BE A TRAMP!" Tears streamed her face, her breathing heavy as she felt her throat grow a stinging lump inside. Tugging her arm, she tried to get from the tall man. "From the day I got to the streets, to the day I die. I will always be a tramp, nothing will change that."

Helena's head hung, letting the tears fall to the cement, along with the drops in the sky mixing with it. Cold rains fell upon the two, in the dark street night, the rain was growing thicker as the two stood getting wet. Neither cared, the rain was the only thing that kept the dead silence at bay.

Sherlock's eyes never left her, seeing the auburn hair stick around her neck, shoulders, and hung around her face. He stepped closing, his hand holding her arm got loose as it slowly traveled up her arm resting on her shoulder. All this time, for so long she thought nothing had changed. She feared so much of Sherlock leaving her at the drop of a hat, now it all showed. Waiting for the one flaw, one mistake that would make the deed happen.

Finding his mouth grew dry, Sherlock swallowed and took a sharp breath. "I can change that." He spoke, his voice gentle and soft, as he took a step closer looking down at her.

His bird; his Hawk was as frail as he had ever seen her. Not when she was blind, not when her brother was kidnapped, _this _was his worst sight of her. His hand felt her shoulders shake, she was crying more unable to stop. How could he get her to listen, believe his words were true? His mind cranked and worked, finding no answer. It drew a large long blank.

A word he hadn't ever thought of on Helene; _impulse_\- His hand rose up joining the other on her free shoulder, reaching higher they cupped her cheeks, raising her head at him, her eyes tightly closed refusing to open. Her hair stuck all over, delicately his fingers tucked them behind her ears to see that pale sharp face of hers. Rain drops mixed with her tears on her soft skin, his blue silver eyes blinked away any rain drops to keep his sight on her features.

This was an error, this entire 'impulse' was a complete error to the logic of Sherlock Holmes. But so was Helena Shaw's idea of herself.

Leaning down letting his lips graze her cheek bone, her whispered into her ear, "You're perfect."

Her eyes had finally opened, just in time to blink a few times at the shock of another action. Unable to speak, move, or even breath, Helena found her lips locked with Sherlock's.

* * *

**Thank you Kalliope-Korinna-Klytaimnestia, Sol981,Supix, for the follow and favorites!**

**Sophiewhettingsteel- Thanks!**

**Bored411- Indeed, it is largely important in Helena's past, which I hope to reveal sometime soon. Just don't want to throw it in the face. Glad you're enjoying the story! :3**

**I just recently attended the Sakura Festival wearing a Lolita outfit with my friend, we called ourselves twins wearing same design. Thanks again for the dresses! I last wore a dress in about, first grade and stopped from boys peeking under when on the bus. Guess what; first time in over a decade and a creep came up to me at the festival.**


	30. Chapter 30

**Decided to put these up here, as it makes sense now thinking. Thanks for the reviews they REALLY make me feel better about that last scene. Also WOW so many people loved that kiss scene. Thanks so so SO much! So glad it didn't turn out too cliche or such.**

* * *

They had been gone for so long, without any word from either of them. John expected this from Sherlock, how secret and discreet he can be. But Helena filled John in as much as possible, no word from her caused more worry. It didn't help that Irene was gone too when he returned. Did she do something to them? No, the flat had no signs of foul play, Sherlock's coat and scarf isn't there so he clearly left on his own accord. It was hard to tell with Helena- he guessed with the windows closed she followed him out the door.

John Watson wasn't as good at deduction as Sherlock, but at least he had his ways of knowing some things. He glanced to his watch, 11:26, it was near midnight. With a sigh, John got to his feet and reached for his jacket resting on the dining chair, ready to go search for them. But then, he heard footsteps before ascending up the stairs, they were slow but felt heavy. It could be either Sherlock, Helena, or danger. After all that's happened with Irene and that bloody phone, John quietly reached for the gun he kept in the table drawer.

Peeking through the crack of the door with his back to the wall, he saw Sherlock's figure move down the hall to his bedroom, shutting the door with his heel. He was soaked to the bone, thankfully it just stopped raining so he must have walked the rest of the way- explains his long absence. John sighed heavily, patting his chest. "Damn him." He cussed shaking his head placing the gun gently back into the drawer.

"Gone for hours, and doesn't even…" John thought back, then walked down the hall to Sherlock's door knocking on it. "Sherlock?"

No answer.

John knocked again. "Sherlock."

"Yes?" Came from the other end of the door.

"Where's Helena?"

* * *

What does one do when their 'boss', friend, and known _sociopath_ ends up kissing them!? Slap? Push away? ...kiss bac- NO! No, no, no...yes?

This was currently going through Helena's mind as her lips were in a lock with Sherlock's without a single warning. Why though? **Why?**

Finally, what felt like would never end, Sherlock leaned back and looked at her straight in eyes, he said- "I've always known."

"...Wha- What?" Did Helena hear him right? He had that same serious expression as before in the car, so she know it was no bluff. "But how?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, but he could see why she asked. He sighed, thinking back. "You undressed comfortably in front of me and John at the flat, as well as perfectly fine when I was undressed. The way you reacted to how Miss Adler was when first meeting her. But most of all, it was the map."

"..Map?"

He nodded, hands still resting on her forearms. "How else could someone easily map out London? Surely not sitting around under a highway."

Helena felt her heart beat hard against her chest, finally she looked away to avoid his eyes contact. "So.. you've known from the near beginning. This doesn't change-"

"No, it doesn't change your past." He cut her off, his grip tightened to keep her from getting out of this confrontation.

"But seeing you're brilliant map, sharp mind, and risk for.." He took a breath, leaning closer again as the rain dripped off the ends of his now flat hair. Impulse; moving her wet copper light hair from sticking to her face. "I don't care."

Her eyes closed tightly, half of her thought she imagined it but the other half held those words desperately.

"I don't care; do you hear me?" He repeated to confirm she was listening. "Would I be still here, if I did? Talked, touch, even have my lips touch yours if I cared?"

Helena looked up at him, her red eyes puffy, but face was still wet from the rain. Sherlock had lied, back and forth many times for personal and work gain. But this- her heart ached for the truth. Could this be what John had been trying to convince her of all this time? Sherlock Holmes, the acclaimed sociopath, expressing his true feelings to her?

Fear ran in her at that very moment, could she accept love?

Unable to speak, Helena just sighed hanging her head in defeat; both in his words and from running away again. Sherlock looked down at her, his own heart felt pain, unable to figure it out. Deciding to end it, he put an arm around her shoulder and lead her down the street as the rain lightly showered the two, leading her to Baker Street.

* * *

"Yes?"

"Where's Helena?"

Sherlock glanced to the door, "She's safe, left a bit ago." He answered lowly.

"Is she alright?"

"She's perfectly fine, John." He told shortly, just wishing the man would go to bed.

With a pause, John gave a "Goodnight, then." and the detective heard his flatmate leave the hall and up the stairs to his room.

With a sigh, Sherlock removed his coat hanging it against the door to dry. Well, he wasn't lying- Helena made her leave before he entered the flat. He didn't argue, the rain had stopped and he knew she'd find a good place to rest for the night. Although, he looks back thinking maybe he should've urged her to stay there. The rain could come again, and possibly get worse.

But that's Helena- it'd turn into a struggle more than a offer just to get her to sleep there. Not like he wouldn't see her again, not after the confession he made.

Confession.

Sherlock went into his dresser, taking out his night clothing to prepare a needed warm shower. He rarely gets caught in the rain or even goes out when it rains. Usually he'd run straight for cover or head right into a cab as soon as he could. Although with Helena he barely registered it was raining until her small figure got completely soaked, as did his.

The aching feeling in his heart worsened, was he sick? His chest was felt tight as well. Sherlock unbuttoned his shirt, and removed it along with his blazer. Pressing his palm against his bare chest, he felt no different on the outside but still felt as if his heart was being squeezed to death.

Sherlock thought of this being a symptom of some illness. His left arm wasn't numb, so it was no action of a heart attack. Possible cold? Maybe a warm shower from standing in the rain would help.

* * *

Helena looked up at the dark night sky, thinking over the events of the day- or just past months. Irene Adler was out of their lives for good, she hoped. At this point, The Woman's fate was not any of her concern. Her mind was currently plagued upon the actions of a certain Consulting Detective, she couldn't stop touching her lips. Her heart skipped at the thought of remembering his actions; Sherlock kissing her.

Was it a real confession, or one at all? He never said anything about feelings, just proved how wrong she was and that he truly didn't care about her past.

A sigh escaped her, sitting against the wall of a building. Twisting her body to see the window above her, she looked longingly at the window to the flat she knew of where the responsible man of her troubled mind slept right now.

"If he loves me," She pondered to herself getting to her feet, eyes locked onto the closed window. "Could I ever love him back?"

* * *

Two months have passed since the Irene Adler _true_ incident, ending the long lasting case ever seen by John and Helena. Not much was written about in the blog, making online fans question it, John only answered as much as he could as he himself wasn't at the confrontation. Sherlock only informed the doctor that her phone was unlocked, her fate was unknown to the three. Until this morning.

John ascended up the stairs, small plastic bag under his arm. He was given a recent 'favor' from Mycroft to inform his brother on something.

"Clearly you've got news." Sherlock spoke just as John came to the doorway finding where his flatmate was 'hiding'. "If it's about the Leeds triple murder, it was the gardener. Nobody noticed the earring."

John decided not to question it, stepping into the room. "Hi. Er, no, it's um.." He stepped further in not making eye contact with the overly clever man. "It's about Irene Adler."

Sherlock's attention was given when the name was heard. Although his expression was hard to read. "Oh? Something happened? Has she come back?"

"No, she's er.." John was finding this more difficult than he imagined. "I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs. He had to take a call."

Sherlock stood, "Is she back in London?" he asked walking around the table to stand in front of John.

The doctor was finding this harder to say, especially with that expected look Sherlock gave every time. He wish Helena was here to help, but after all she went through, he wouldn't blame her for not caring or wanting to know.

"No, she's..." Feeling Sherlock's eyes baring into him, John just stared at the table trying to scramble his mind to make proper words. He took in a sharp breath and looked up at Sherlock's gaze. "She's in America."

The detective titled his head back at this. "America?"

"Mmm-hmm." Lied the doctor. "Got herself on a witness protection scheme, apparently. Dunno how she swung it, but, er, well, you know." He smiled innocently.

"I know what?" Sherlock questioned.

"Well, you won't be able to see her again."

"Why would I want to see her again?"

The smile stayed on John as Sherlock turned away back around the table. "Didn't say you did." He mumbled.

"Is that her file?" He asks not looking up.

John peeks down at the bag, and back to him. "Yes. I was just gonna take it back to Mycroft." He offers the bag out to him. "Do you want to-"

"No." He bluntly declined, sitting back down to focus back into the microscope.

John watched him, silently. Well, he told him what needed to be told. But he felt Sherlock should know the truth of Irene. If he thinks she's alive he might pursue her, which in turn will hurt him... And Helena. He looked about the room again, she was a sneaky girl, could've listened anywhere.

"If you're looking for Helena, she hasn't arrived yet." Sherlock told, feeling John's uneasy presence.

"Oh, she's visiting?" Sherlock nodded with a hum, John then spotted a mug by the sink. Sherlock always makes one for when he expected her visits. He bit back a smile. "Haven't seen her in a while."

"She's been busy, that's for sure." Sherlock muttered, taking in a breath trying to keep his mind focused on the specimen before him.

Helena has been around now and then to help with cases, but doesn't stay long. John was concerned, but as Sherlock always tells him, 'she's fine'. To Sherlock, so long as Helena still visited, everything was back to normal.

John turned half way to return to Mycroft, but he felt a force keeping him there. Was it right to keep this from Sherlock. "Listen, actually-"

"Oh, but I _will_ be having the camera phone, though." Sherlock requested, holding his hand out expecting the device that instant.

He looked down at the damned thing through the bag, "There's nothing on it anymore. It's been stripped." John informed.

"I know but.." He stretched his hand out further, not looking up from his work. "...I'll still have it."

John stammered at his insistence. "I've gotta give this back to Mycroft. You can't keep it." Sherlock says nothing, only opening his hands more. "Sherlock, I _have_ to give this to Mycroft. It's the government's now. I couldn't give-"

"Please."

John Watson was at a lost. Why would he still need this phone? Keep it as a momento? No, Sherlock usually kept things as weapons, -possible- body parts, and skulls as momentos. Just as a memory of The Woman herself? John prayed not. What would Helena do if she found this haunting device in the flat; shred it down the sink disposal without a thought or demand Sherlock for some answers... Which usually insures with a two day long fight.

Finally, he caved. How often did Sherlock say please, after all. John removed the phone from the bag, and placed it in Sherlock's hand. Fingers curled around it safely, he drew his hand back and pocketed the phone redirecting his hand back to the microscope.

"Thank you."

John nodded, and raised the bag. "Well, I better take this back."

"Yes."

With that done, John turned to leave toward the stairs. Although, he paused at the doorway, a question raised in his mind. But to ask was the better question. Deciding, 'what the hell', he turns back to his flatmate finally wanting to know.

"Did she ever text you again, after..." He tilts his head to indicate their last meeting. "all that?"

"Once, a few months ago." Sherlock answered, adjusting the settings on his microscope.

A few months, had to have been her last moments on this earth. "What did she say?"

" 'Goodbye, Mr. Holmes'."

John thinks on those words, "Huh." had to have been before she died. He looks about the living room, almost checking if Helena was really not anywhere within a hearing distance. Deeming his time there long enough, John left Sherlock alone with his work.

The detective finally looked up when he heard his blogger descend down the stairs. Looking down on his own phone resting beside him, he starting scrolling through his messages. He stood and strode into the living room, pausing at the window hearing the rain softly pound against the thin, cold glass. There were many, many texts she had sent him, and barely any to which he replied.

**I'm not hungry, let's have dinner.**

**Bored in a hotel. Join me. Let's have dinner.**

**John's blog is HILARIOUS. I think he likes you more than I do. Let's have dinner.**

**I can see tower bridge and the moon from my room. Work out where I am and join me.**

**I saw you in the street today. You didn't see me.**

**You do know that hat actually suits you, don't you?**

**Oh for God's sake. Let's have dinner.**

**I like your funny hat.**

**I'm in Egypt talking to an idiot. Get on a plane, let's have dinner.**

**You looked sexy on Crimewatch.**

**Even you have got to eat. Let's have dinner.**

**BBC1 right now. You'll laugh.**

**I'm thinking of sending you a Christmas present.**

**Mantelpiece.**

**I'm not dead. Let's have dinner. **

The one and only message he sent her quickly passed by.

**Happy New Year**

Then there was the very last one she sent, months ago.

**Goodbye Mr Holmes**

Sherlock gazes at those words for a good while, shifted up to the wet windows as the rain fell outside. The Woman in America- Lies. Sherlock wasn't stupid, but he'd let his brother and blogger believe that. Nor was she dead as he would be initially told, she was alive and that's all he knew. Her location, a totally mystery. And he'd prefer it that way. Thinking of that true last day with her, he pondered at times why he let her live. She caused danger to those he cared for, worry to his friends… and pain to Helena.

So why?

Maybe it was just to show off how clever he could be, save her in the last minute and make everyone else a fool. Maybe he did care about.. No, he chuckled at that ridiculous notion; impossible! Tossing her phone in the air and catching it with ease, he stared at the phone one last time.

"Sherlock!" He turned hearing his pet- his precious pet return home. "You here? I brought lunch, hope you like sweet and sour chicken!"

His lips tugged into a smile, through the window of his bedroom as always, hearing her enter the kitchen. He opened the top drawer of his desk, quickly chucking the phone in and closing it just as the Tramp entered the room. White plastic bags in her one hand, and the mug of her awaited tea in the other. She spotted him by the window gazing outside, her head tilted.

"Sherlock?"

He turned with a wide but short smile, "Yes? Sorry, was in my mind palace."

Helena scoffed and held a bag out for him, his meal tucked away nice and warm. "Give me a warning, I'd pop up at that window instead."

He took the bag noticed how wet it and the containers were. "Soaked." He stated taking his bag, "Could've taken a cab to keep them dry."

"You wanted them fresh, didn't you?" She questioned placing her food onto the coffee container, then pointed a finger at him as he sat down on the couch. "Don't complain."

He hid a snicker as she removed her wet jacket and hung it on one of the dining chairs, before taking a seat beside him. Whenever Helena was close, he felt the heavy pain in his chest disappear, but a light airy feeling was replaced. He didn't mind, so long as that damned chest pain was gone, it was becoming more frequent when Helena didn't visit for a while. For sure it was something to do with the food she brought, but he never got heartburn. He'd really have to remember to talk to John to check him out in case anything was wrong.

But for now-

"Don't hog the soy sauce, they put such little packets in the bags." Helena whined as Sherlock took the four tiny liquid filled packets.

"You are a professional pickpocket, aren't you?" He countered with a smirk as he kept them from her, nudging them with his chopsticks.

"I refuse to get caught and banned from my favorite Chinese place." Helena reached over, only for Sherlock to grab them and hold them out of her reach. "No fair!" She giggled trying to reach them stretching her arm out as much as she could. "You got those freakish long limbs!"

"Just use the bottle of what we have." He countered, grinning at her attempts and excuses.

"You refilled it with something I don't even want to know _what _it is!"

Helena jumped off the couch reaching past his chest, placing a hand there. Sherlock felt a hitch in his throat when the human contact was made. She managed to get two packets from his fingers, and fell back onto the couch checking how many she got. "Hah! I'll be satisfied with this much, thank you very much."

Sherlock was leaning back against the arm, one packet slipping to the floor. That feeling in his chest just now, his mind had gone blank in an instant. Just as her body left his own, his brain was back to running at top speed, it near made him dizzy.

What was happening to Sherlock Holmes!?

* * *

"So.. she failed?"

"Seems so."

With trembling hands, the healing bruised man gulped daring to ask another question. "What's the next plan?"

"Plan?" The man in the Westwood suit raised a brow to the man he didn't even want to distinguish part of society. "As far as I can tell, it worked well for me. A bit of torture and fun until it backfired on Miss Adler. No concern, _bye bye_!" He sang waving goodbye to no one in particular.

Trevor's eyes shifted about nervously, rubbing his arm that recently healed from being broken. "..But that text-" Jim turned to the injured man. "Dirty Hoe.." he recalled with knotted brows. "I want her to leave him, this is only bringing them closer together!"

"That's not my fault." He waved off folding his hands behind his back sternly looking down at the man in his debt. "You just aren't providing enough to help the cause."

"The more information I gave, you end up hurting her more than helping her!" Trevor shot an accusing finger at the well dressed criminal. "What kind of consultant are you!?"

Jim Moriarty stared at the trembling finger, then to the man who was close to hyperventilating. A frown was staining his features, the man was enjoy his time torturing Sherlock and this wet blanket was ruining his fun.

"I would watch who you're pointing that towards, my good mutt."

Trevor was about to question why, but all that escaped from his mouth was a blood curdling scream. He fell to his knees as he held his bloody hand, his index finger now gone!

"That's better, takes the stress right out. Doesn't it?" He asked with a perky bounce in his step as he left the man in his agonizing pain, trying to figure out what just happened.

Unknown to Trevor, one of Moriarty's best snipers were keeping watch. Trevor might just lose his whole hand, if he steps out of place again. Once he found out about the 'poem' send to Helena, he got angry at Jim to using such a weakness against her. Only leading her to near leave him, but somehow he tugged her right back!

Trevor was losing his mind.

* * *

**Thank you heartkillerlive181, jenakara, alyana black, Robyn-in-the-air, Rumbling Frenzy, sillystring-roxs-the-earth, xlyracharlottex, silent blue rose, LuciansLycanNightShade, sisencetoaha, HippieLove1312, Kira Tsumi, Red of Dawn, chill18, Wakahisa Hikari, MentallyInsaneCat, MentallyInsaneCat, OlliePop1, GosaJane, HippieLove1312, for the follow and favorites!**

**Nik1804- RIGHT!?**

**Bored411- Thanks so much! I didn't want it just for any random reason, I mean, when you're on the streets you get desperate, y'know? It's something not to be proud of. (unless they're into that kind of thing) Well, remember when she 'kissed' him a while back? Hmmmmm~**

**PomegranateAndBooks- First, I just love your username- It sounds like a book store name! Second, thanks SO much! That made my heart soar for real! Ah no. Everything MUST have a reason. Like this scene- he kissed her for a reason; (read and see~) I try really hard to keep her involved, her intro was PERFECT for The Blind Banker, though Irene Adler involved it got hard.**

**KilalaInara- Hurray indeed!**

**Guest- Aww, seeing your reaction just makes me just squeal! Thanks so much!**

**FeeKee- Thanks mate! Nice choice in music!**

**The reason this wasn't released instantly because I still had a lot to write. But mostly I had my two friends visit from Missouri after the con and I suffered with a clogged ear from my pool during an injury for a while so I couldn't hear properly (or at all) AND a friend was graduating college Friday. **


	31. Chapter 31

**I've been debating on going to the hound episode or my own mystery arc. But we've done my own arc a short while ago, so we're doing the hounds! Honestly this is my favorite story in the Sherlock novels. The way they modernized it, was amazing! Enjoy!  
**

* * *

"'Would you count yourself as a dog or cat person?'." Helena raised a brow at the small quiz she found in the many newspaper all over the flat of 221b. She found Sherlock had no use as the place was in complete clutter. Her beige jacket hung on the chair lazily as he half empty mug of tea sat on the edge of the table stand, space mostly taken up by the pile of papers and books.

Helena arrived that morning invited by John for breakfast, but Sherlock was nowhere in site. He informed the Tramp he was out on a possible case, as she awoke with him gone as well. Though it was a tad strange, as his coat and scarf were hanging on the closed door. But if anything happened, she was sure Sherlock would inform them.

John sat in his usual spot, laptop resting on his legs, looked over to her lounging in Sherlock's chair. Legs hung over the arms, not caring if this was disrupting the cushions for the absent detective.

"Found another quiz?" He asked, seeing as she was finding herself growing bored.

"Yea, but also asking you." She inquired looking over to him, folding the papers to see. "Dog or cat?"

"Oh, dog. No question about that. I used to spend some time with the training dogs during my military time." He smiled toward her.

She grinned back, "Let's get a dog!" Helena barked suddenly, as if she was a child. "I can see you with a beagle."

John chuckled, "I fear Sherlock might not be a dog, cat, or pet person in general."

Helena shrugged. "Who really pays for the rent more, I say has the right to get a pet." She insisted, John only shook his head as she returned to her quiz.

In her results, she received 'cat person'. Helena thought that'd be perfect for her; they were agile, climbed, and fast like herself. Helena sometimes fed whatever stray cat she found around London, but from John's thought on Sherlock, she couldn't help but agree that he wasn't animal friendly.

Suddenly, the door swung open and heavy steps pounded into the room. The two peacefully content people glanced, only to near do a double take at the sight before them. Sherlock had returned from a case, that's for sure. But with him was a used whaling harpoon… and himself completely covered in… blood. Or at least, that had to be what it was. He was out of breath and not looking too bothered by his current… attire. All he had to say was,

"Well, that was tedious." His blue eyes looked over finding his blogger and pet staring at him near slacked jawed.

"You went on the tube like that!?" John questioned in shock.

"Dear God…" Helena groaned, only imagining the horror he brought onto those train riders.

"None of the cabs would take me." He countered clearly annoyed.

"Oh even better." She muttered, now thinking of the horror of people just on the bloody -no pun intended- streets as he possibly ran here looking like a lunatic. Swinging her legs over, she got to her feet and walked past him trying to ignore the iron like smell of blood. "Shall I run a bath?"

"No!" The two froze at his sudden bark. Helena's brows furrowed at his raise of sudden tone. He cleared his throat and carefully walked past her to avoid getting any on her. "I'll run it..." And so he took his leave slamming the bathroom door.

"What the hell was that about?" She questioned turning to John.

He shrugged, unable to answer.

Lately, Sherlock had been tense around Helena, not wanting her near or doing things for him. John pondered on his sudden deny for her offer, as she retook her seat continuing her quiz, finding nothing wrong. The doctor was knowledgable in human health and illness, but what Sherlock Holmes brought up to him a few weeks ago…

* * *

"John."

"Yes, Sherlock?"

Sherlock sat in front of his laptop at the dining table glaring at the laptop. The screen shined bright in the dimly lit room as the night took place. John was sitting on the couch typing away at the latest case they had just solved.

The dark detective opened his mouth, then lips closed tightly. John raised a brow at his friend, had he gotten a comment on his blog about those damned ashes or got an absurd email for a case? Sherlock rarely paused in speaking, so his attention grew sitting up staring at him.

Sherlock inhaled deeply, thinking over his words. "As a man in your medical field," He started unfolding his hands and resting them on the table surface. "What medicine would you subscribe for chest pain or trouble breathing?"

John was shocked by this, panic grew in him. With how troubled he looked to ask this, he asked. "Are you alright, Sherlock? Have you had these symptoms?"

Sherlock Holmes wasn't one to show weakness or feelings, but this had been happening for over a few months and he couldn't take it much longer. "...To some extent."

The doctor got to his feet, walking over to his possible new patient. "How long has this been going on?" Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, he kept his distance shoving his hands in his pockets.

Sherlock sighed, feeling regret to mention this. "A few weeks to a few months."

"Months!? Why didn't you tell me this long before?" Sherlock didn't answer, he looked toward the window.

John never saw him get sick to any experiments he performed, or when he skipped meals. Even with wounds he got, he ignored it and healed fine as his own. This was a very bizarre of Sherlock Holmes.

"Do you have trouble breathing? Like, right now?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Not now, no. It.. It comes and goes." He was clearly nervous telling this, John thought on the possible causes. One thought came in, causing him to cross his arms.

"Have you been smoking?"

Sherlock hesitated on his answer.

* * *

Thus lead to a now clean, pacing Consulting Detective either needing a fix or absolutely bored out of his continuously running mind. John looked through the papers to help find a case, while Helena watched on, leaning against the kitchen doorway. She had never actually seen the man so overwrought over not having a case right after another! Helena now can see why John begged her over when he was like this, he became calm when she arrived. Seemed it wasn't doing good this time around.

"Nothing?" Sherlock asked shortly.

John spotted one in the paper. "Military coup in Uganda."

"Hmm." He circled the coffee table, it helped slow his pacing down.

John chuckled at the next page, Helena walked over leaning on the back of his chair as he points at the paper. "Another photo of you with the-" Sherlock peeked over but groaned in annoyance and continued his pacing.

"Where is that hat, anyway?" She asked looking around the cluttered room.

"Burned." Sherlock answered, passing the harpoon between his hands.

"Oh, um, Cabinet reshuffle." He offered.

"Nothing of importance? Oh, God!" He bellowed in a temper, slamming the harpoon against the ground. John and Helena watched him as his eyes shot to them. "John, I need some. Get me some."

Helena looked down at John who calmly responded. "No."

"Get me some, Hawkeye." He demanded at her. She gave him a look, been a long time since he said that name.

"No." He sternly pointed a finger at the ill tempered man. "Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what."

Sherlock turned away irritated, putting the harpoon down against the dining table. Helena was ready to take the damned weapon away in case he flings at the wall. It's had enough abuse for one tenant.

"Anyway you've paid everyone off, remember? Thanks to Helena, no one within a two mile radius will sell you any." He reminded nodding to her as she moved to the mantel, possibly looking to make sure none were hidden away.

With folded arms, he frowned at that note. "Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?" His two friends eyed him, it was his own idea. Last resort- "Mrs. Hudson!"

Without a warning, he turns to the dining table and starts shoving, throwing, and pushing papers about to find a pack of cigarettes anywhere. "As if the flat wasn't a mess already." Helena commented with folded arms.

John glanced to her then to his flatmate, sighing at the site of him. "Look, Sherlock, you're doing really well." Or as well as one good be. "Don't give up now."

Helena stepped up in concern. "After what John told me, Sherlock, it's best you go through this than pain." Yes, John had informed her about what the smokes were possibly doing to him. She aided in taking those bloody things away, instantly.

Sherlock ignored their words, as he continued tossing papers about carelessly. "Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me." He paused turning to them, trying to regain his composure. "Please." He begged.

"Can't help, sorry." Was all John said returning to his reading.

His gaze shot to an uncomfortable looking Helena, she grew worry with how he was acting.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers."

John chuckled at her attempt, Helena only looked away shaking her head.

"Oh, it was worth a try."

His eyes shot low by her feet. Without warning, he threw his body to the floor scrambling about around Helena's feet.

"Wah! Hey, Sherlock!" She squealed as she moved out of the way not to trip by his grabby long fingers.

Sherlock continued to toss about more things around or in the fireplace just as Mrs. Hudson came up.

"Ohh-ohh!" She spotted her tenant on the floor digging into an old slipper, shocked by the sight of him and the flat.

"My secret supply! What have you done with my secret supply!" He almost sings back when she 'ooh'ed into the room.

"Eh?"

"Cigarettes! What have you done with them? Where are they?" He tried to explain in short.

Helena now stood behind his chair, "Why would she know, Sherlock?"

"You know you never let me touch your things!" She agreed, but took a good look around. "Ohh, chance would be a fine thing."

He shot to his feet staring at her. "I thought you weren't my housekeeper."

"I'm not." She told back, as if a mother telling a son she doesn't clean his room.

He let's out a frustrated noise and stomps past the two over to his precious harpoon. Mrs. Hudson looked to the others for help, John motioned drinking, hoping that offering something would help.

"How about a nice cuppa? And perhaps you could put away your harpoon." She offered, wishing he'd put the deadly weapon away.

"I need something stronger than tea!"

She folded her arms at his antics. She jumped every time he moved.

"Seven per cent stronger." He countered.

"Well, there's coffee, whisky, or straight up scotch?" Helena offered stepping over between the two to possibly try and pry the harpoon from him. "An endless selection."

Before she could try, Sherlock pointed the damned thing at Mrs. Hudson who stepped back. "You've been with Mr. Chatterjee again."

"Pardon?"

"Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking."

Helena frowned at his actions, but more at his words.

"Sherlock..." John warned.

"Thumbnail: tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads, don't we?" He took a quick but strong inhale through the nostrils. "Mmm: 'Kasbah Nights.' Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website. You should look it up."

"Please." Mrs. Hudson was feeling antagonized by his fury deductions.

He moved past her to get behind his chair leaning the harpoon down again against the wall, now shortly pacing by the window. "I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr Chatterjee. He's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about-"

"Sherlock!"

"Well, nobody except me!"

Mrs. Hudson huffed in anger. "I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't!" She turned and left slamming the door.

Helena glared at Sherlock.

"Happy now? Got your fix?"

He glared back at her words.

"Hope you puffed enough of her emotions to fix your mad mind!" She scolded and went after Mrs. H slamming the door as well.

John sighed, that was one way to start the morning. Sherlock huddled into his chair, rocking back and forth, the doctor slaps the paper down looking at him, "What the bloody hell was that about?"

"You don't understand." He excused tucking his head down.

He leaned forward, like a father to a child, pointing his thumb to the door, "Go after her, and apologize."

Sherlock slowly raised his head at the notion. "Apologize?"

"Mmm-hmm, in fact you owe Helena one to. She's trying to help, and you didn't give her a chance."

"She had a chance- a chance to get me some." He retorted sending a glare toward the door.

Despite John having a point, her being there wasn't helping. The thought of his problems being smoking was making Sherlock doubt it more and more. He still felt his heart beat more than usual, and his throat tightened at most times too. Then again, this could be the withdrawal. He honestly couldn't tell.

John stared him down, "That is not what she is here for. You usually relax when she's here, why are you so spazzed up this time?"

The detective only shook his head, "Oh John, I envy you so much."

This was a real test of willpower. Ask and feed the flames, or ignore and wonder forever what he meant. John perused his lips and adjusted his seating before asking, "You envy me?"

"Your mind: so placid, straightforward, barely used."

Sure, this wasn't insulting or demeaning at all to him.

"Mine's like an engine, racing out of control."

John nodded as if he truly was keeping track of all this.

"A rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on a launch pad."

He ducked his head down, giving a mumble, "She would understand." Then yelled out, "I need a case!"

"You just solved one!" John barked back, just as Helena returned through the kitchen. "By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!" He pointed out, toward the damned thing.

Helena rolled her eyes at the yelling as she took her mug from the kitchen table deciding to refill it.

Sherlock let out an exasperated groan.

"That was this morning!" He dismissed. Sherlock jumped off the chair and planted his feet on the ground sitting properly. Although his fingers drummed on the arms and his feet stomping back and forth on the floor. "When's the next one?"

"Nothing on the website?" John questioned.

Sherlock jumped up at that, roughly picking up his laptop and handing it to John to see a message that was sent to his blog: "'Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please, can you help?'."

"Bluebell?" Helena called from the kitchen.

"A rabbit, Helena!"

"I can't see the message from here!" She hollered back not likely to take his attitude.

"Ah, but there's more!" He continued, with a happy, sarcastic tone. "Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous- "Like a fairy" according to little Kristy." He explained imitating a little girl's voice,

Helena returned to the room now with her mug and a cup of tea. More or less an attempt to calm him down.

"Then the next morning, Bluebell was gone!"

Helena skimmed at the words over John's shoulder. "To be honest, this sounds like you're type of case, Sherlock. Locked hutch, no force entry, no sign of being rabbit-knapped at all." She joked placing a fresh cuppa on the table close to Sherlock.

Sherlock himself seemed to take in her words, finally listening to her. He spun to her, taking her shoulder before she could get her space from him. "That is brilliant, Helena! Phone Lestrade." He told John pointing a finger at him. "Tell him there's an escaped rabbit."

"Whoa, hey. I was just teasing you." Helena waved off, getting his hand off her shoulder gently.

"Are you serious?" John questioned, not knowing if he actually should call or not.

"It's this, or Cluedo."

"Ah no!"

"No way!"

At the two denies, Sherlock turned to them as John closed the laptop placing it on the table and Helena walking off sipping her tea.

"We are never playing that again!" John established earning a childish glare from Sherlock.

"Why not?"

"Because it's not possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why." He cleared off turning back to his chair.

Sherlock couldn't agree. "Well, it was the only possible solution."

"It's not in the rules."

"Then the rules are wrong!"

"SHUT IT!"

The two men looked to the highly annoyed female of the room who glared between the two. Before she could scold the childish men, the doorbell rang.

Oh, seems the doorbell got fixed, Helena thought.

"Single ring."

"Maximum pressure just under the half second."

Both men declared, "Client."

Helena thanked God for that!

* * *

Or maybe not…

The client they had currently sitting in John's chair was Henry Knight, who was a bit of an anxious man. He didn't exactly explain what his case was, but said that a DVD he had on him would explain. The video played on the telly as all four watched… or mostly three.

Helena was highly intrigued, sitting on Sherlock's arm chair. John was as well, but at a lower level, content with sitting at the dining table. Henry watched on looking anxious, by Helena's view. Sherlock, now dressed, stared between his possibly boring client and the TV, though rarely paying much attention to the screen. The documentary showed views of wide green grass and large rocks, that's what really got Helena's attention. Sherlock leaned on his right, twitching his small two fingers not wanting to really drag out through this dull video.

_"Dartmoor. It's always been a place of myth and legend, but is there something else lurking out here – something very real? Because Dartmoor's also home to one of the government's most secret of operations, the chemical and biological weapons research centre which is said to be even more sensitive than Porton Down."_

A huge sign was shown on the screen.

"AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY  
YOU ARE NOW ENTERING A RESTRICTED AREA  
BASKERVILLE"

It also showed small clips of the location, heavily guarded and fenced around the area. Helena and John pondered where this was going, expecting something to give them the answer.

_"Since the end of the Second World War, there've been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments: genetic mutations, animals grown for the battlefield. There are many who believe that within this compound, in the heart of this ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is: are all of them still inside?"_

Henry came onto the screen, his name at the bottom labeled 'Henry Knight, Grimpen resident'.

_"I was just a kid. It-it was on the moor."_

"A moor..." Helena whispered to herself, Sherlock side glanced her, not before returning to his stare.

A drawing was shown, a caption fading in saying,_ "Henry's drawing (aged 9)."_ It looked like to be a demon-like dog, at one's guessing.

_"It was dark, but I know what I saw. I know what killed my father."_

Helena near gasped hearing that, but then the screen went black. Sherlock had taken the remote and turned the bloody thing off.

"What did you see?" He asks him.

Henry stammered, motioning to the telly. "I… I was about to say."

Helena sits up near elbowing John. "Sherlock, put it back on. It can answer it all for us."

"Helena, if you really wish to see what a 'moor' is, my laptop to free for a Google search. Enjoy."

He shooed her away like a pesky fly, shoving her off the arm of his chair with his elbow.

"I prefer my own editing, anyway." He told his client, ignoring the glare his pet was currently giving him.

She huffed to sit at the couch, not caring to even search up that word. Henry looked toward the tempered woman, then to the detective who raised his brows to speak.

"Yes. Sorry, yes, of course. 'Scuse me."

He pulled a paper napkin out from his jacket pocket to wipe his nose onto.

"In your own time." John assured kindly.

"But quite quickly." Sherlock assured impatiently.

Henry, ready to speak, looked to the two men guessing that the woman was out of the conversation. "Do you know Dartmoor, Mr. Holmes."

"No."

"It's an amazing place. It's like nowhere else. It's sort of… bleak but beautiful." Helena leaned in listening, she really wanted to hear more- oh so much more!

"Mmm, not interested. Moving on."

John glanced at him, then to Helena who glared once again. She was hooked, for sure. None the less, Henry did continue.

"We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor."

Helena leaned against the coffee table, happy to hear about the moor again.

"Yes, good." Sherlock nodded. "Skipping to the night that your father was violently killed. Where did that happen?"

John's brows shot up at that sudden skip need.

"Sherlock, will you stop interrupting him?" Helena scolded returning to the trio with folded arms, what was with him?

He only rolled his eyes and heaving a silent annoyed sigh, what was with her?

She smiled kindly at Henry, leaning against the dining table, "Go ahead, Henry. Tell us what happened that day, please?"

Henry gulped, feeling less anxious by her lovely smile. "There's a place. It's… it's sort of a local landmark called Dewer's Hollow."

Sherlock tilted his head, wishing him to go on.

"That's an ancient name for the Devil."

"So?"

"Did you see the Devil that night?" John asked.

Henry looked to the three of them, recounting that very evening it happened.

"Yes." He whispered, Helena watched his expression grow fearful. "It was huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes." He paused looking away, his voice cracked as he went on. "It got him, tore at him, tore him apart."

Helena pressed a hand to her chest, finding it horrible for him to live such a thing at a young age. Watching your father be taken from you, she knew how he felt.

"I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found." He finished his tale, all was said.

"Hmm," John looked to Sherlock, who turned his head toward him. "Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous…Dog? Wolf?"

"Or genetic experiment." He whispered as if trying to keep Henry from hearing, though he clearly found offense of this.

"Are you laughing at me, Mr. Holmes." He question, spotting the smirk he tried to hide.

Helena shot a look right at him, he avoided it. "Why, are you joking?" He retorted.

Henry was indeed offended. "My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville. About the type of monsters they were breeding there." John and Helena looked to one another in concern. "People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously."

"Henry-"

"And, I assume, did wonders for Devon tourism."

A smack was hit upon Sherlock arm, he looked down then up at who the culprit was.

"You know, when I poured my heart out about my father you took it to heart. At least, I hope you did. Henry went through a very traumatic experience at a young age, and you're taking this less serious than the man who claimed he can taste things with his eyes!"

Henry didn't question, he only looked between the angry female and the effective man. John rubbed his temples, deciding to wait it all out.

Sherlock had nothing to counter with, he just sighed and looked away drumming his fingers over the edge of the armchair. She gave one last look before turning to Henry, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and her voice came out softer for him.

"I understand what pain and anger is holding in you, this happened so many years ago; over twenty years ago. What can Sherlock to do help?"

Henry's lower jaw hung, unable to answer. He didn't know if he could say anymore without the sarcasm of this man he travelled all the way to London for. "I'm not sure you can help me, Mr. Holmes, since you find it all so funny."

He spat, but muttered a 'thank you' to Helena and got to his feet heading for the door.

"Henry." Helena stood, worried for this man's possible plea of help to be unheard.

"Because of what happened last night." He told Helena.

She looked toward him.

"Why, what happened last night?" John asked leaning over to him.

Henry then paused turning back to him. "How… How do you know?"

"I didn't know. I noticed." Sherlock corrected.

"Here we go…" Helena sighed hanging her head back looking at the ceiling, John rolled his eyes, prepared for what was to come.

"You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr Knight, and do please smoke. I'd be delighted."

Helena jumped at this, "Ah no! Haha, sorry. Uh, I'm allergic to the smell of smoke, so it'd have to be taken outside, Henry." she tried to excuse now seeing Sherlock true intentions.

"She's lying, she smoked four years in her life." Sherlock called.

"It was one year, and I quit. Because I can, and did." She growled at him for even figuring that out.

Henry seemed to have favored in Sherlock's words, looking between the three. He slowly returned to the chair and retook his seat. Finally, he spoke. "How on earth did you notice all that!?"

"That's not important-" John tried to beat him to the punch.

"Punched-out holes where your ticket's been checked."

"Not now, Sherlock."

"Oh, please. I've been cooped up in here for ages." He groaned at his blogger.

"Not our fault." Helena reminded, walking back over to the three men.

"You're just a showing off." John dismissed.

"Of course I'm a show off. That's what we" He indicated between himself and Helena. "Do."

Helena shook her head at him, "Don't include me, I am not a show off."

Sherlock could count the ways on how she was more of a show off the he himself was. But, he returned to the point being made to Henry Knight. "The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the stain shows that you didn't take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast, or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich."

Henry looked overwhelmed, to what worried the Tramp with what Sherlock was doing. At times, he could either amaze or horrify with his gift. It seemed to be leaning towards the latter for Henry.

"How did you know it was disappointing?" He asked near sobbing, but still shocked by his words.

"Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later, after she got off, I imagine, you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You've been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you're not that into her after all. Then there's the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your shaking fingers. I know the signs."

Sherlock's gaze got tense as he lets out a strangled-like sigh. "No chance to smoke one on the train, no time to roll one before you got a cab here." He glances to his wrist watch quickly. "It's just after nine fifteen. You're desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?"

Everyone was still to Henry's reaction. He inhaled sharply and answered, "No." A smug grin stretches on Sherlock's face, he glances to Helena who turned away at him. "You're right. You're completely, exactly, right." John looked to Sherlock as he sipped his mug turning back to Henry, he looked to Helena who was now as annoyed as the deprived detective.

"Bloody hell," Henry sighed in complete shock and amazement. "I heard you were quick."

"It's my job." Sherlock then leaned over and glower at Henry before demanding thickly. "Now shut up and smoke."

* * *

**Thank you for the follow and favorites!**

**Bored411: I noticed we haven't heard from Trevor in a while. He's still important, so I don't want anyone forgetting him. Thanks! I feel romance should NEVER be rushed. Each person is different, and with how Sherlock and Helena are, it's taking a good while for them to -if they ever- realize their love.**

**So, I saw a new Sherlock game has been released! It's a must have, the girl Sherlock takes in from the Testament of Sherlock Holmes returns; AKA his daughter. That's all I'm revealing. You can find it on steam for PC, and it's out for the XboxOne and PS4 systems.**


	32. Chapter 32

**My friends in Missouri finished watching Gravity Falls with me and them with a brother of my one friend want to do a cosplay! And recently another friend's boyfriend wants to be Bill- though he has a surprise for it. I screamed four times at this. Thanks to my friend for beta reading the recent chapters! Love ya!**

* * *

"_Maybe giving one cigarette will help him?"_

"No way, we all agreed that cutting it all off would be best, John himself said so."

A sigh fell into the other end of the phone, Helena stood outside the flat not wanting to have that smell of those damned cancer sticks invade her lungs once again.

"_Did you ever smoke?"_ Asks her little brother curiously.

Helena puckered her lip out in thought. "Ah, yes, many years ago when I was around your age." She admitted, then pointed at her phone as if pointing at him. "But I better not find any smoke smell on you, got it?"

Curtis laughed on the other end. "_Of course, I'm allergic to them anyway."_ Helena made a mental note at this in case Sherlock smoked around him. "_He hasn't thrown any dishes as he?"_

She shoved her free hand in her tan jacket pocket, the sun was surprisingly out today but she stayed in the shade under the Speedy's canopy. "Not really, mostly the papers and junk laying about to find them." Helena peaked to her left seeing Mrs. Hudson talking with the man Sherlock mentioned that had the wife.

"_Is there a pack in the flat hidden somewhere?"_ Curtis asked.

"Not that I know of, but with how he scrambled all over the place seems there isn't anything." She answered shrugging to herself. "It's kind of sad seeing him do this, John told me what the cigarettes were doing to him."

"_W-What were they doing? Mr. Holmes doesn't have-"_

"No, thank God." She quickly answered pinching the bridge of her nose, Helena didn't even want to think of that ever happening. "But if he keeps smoking those damn things…" She groaned turning toward the Speedy's window seeing the bobble head dogs.

Curtis can tell his sister was stressed, "_So, what's the case he has now?"_ he asked deciding to change the subject.

"Oh, I don't know if he'll accept it." She doubted taping on the glass instinctively. "The client, Henry Knight, rode a train here from Dartmoor."

"_Dartmoor? I've been there- beautiful land!"_ Curtis exclaimed.

Helena frowned at her phone. "Wait, hold on. What do you mean, you've been there?"

He chuckled at her tone. "_Not voluntarily. It was a field trip my class took. Something about the works of the military and experiments, I think."_

Did Helena hear right, this had to be a coincidence. "Are you serious?"

"Of course." Curtis told a bit confused. "Why?"

Helena turned taking a step toward the road before pacing in small circles, hand on her hip."That's related to Henry's case. He claims something killed his father out there twenty years ago."

"_I wouldn't be surprised."_

"Why?"

"_Well, I'm searching the thing about Baskerville there. People claim to see a huge creature, a demon dog wandering the moor."_

Helena paused and looked up at the window of the flat the three men currently were in. "Is there any proof of such a creature?"

Curtis was silent for a moment, a gasp was heard. "...Whoa, I'm sending you a picture, sis. It's a bit insane but..."

* * *

"Footprints-" Spoke Henry Knight, believing this would convince the doubting detective to take his case. "On the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart."

Sherlock leaned back in his chair, raising his eyes to the ceiling as a response to this.

Sherlock Holmes has reached his limit, sure he provided a well nicotine need, despite his chest feeling heavy right now. But all that Henry had said from this point on was just nonsense and waste of his time.

"Man or a woman's" John asked still wanting to know more.

Henry shook his head, "Neither." still holding the cigarette between his fingers, not helping his nerves as much as he wished. "They were-"

"Is that it?" Sherlock interrupted. "Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?"

"Yes, but they were-"

"Sherlock, wait!"

The trio turned toward the kitchen where Helena burst in, out of breath from running up the stairs.

"Everything alright, Helena?" John asked seeing her urgent expression.

"Sherlock," She repeated ignoring John's question. "You _have_ to take the case."

His brows knotted, he felt annoyed even more. "Why, so you can go see the moor?"

She glared at him, gripping her phone tightly in her hand.

"No, sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins." He rapidly told, referring his psychiatrist. "Childhood trauma masked by invented memory. Boring!" He declared. "Goodbye, Mr. Knight. Thank you for smoking."

Henry spun back to the detective, "No, but what about the footprints?"

"There's footprints?" Helena asked, eyebrows shooting up.

"Oh, they're probably paw prints; could be anything, therefore nothing." Sherlock disregarded leaning forward and buttoning his blazer ready to stand. He waves his hands at Henry, gesturing to take his leave. "Off to Devon with you, have a cream tea on me."

"You idiot, don't you see what this really is about?" Helena growled at him as he approached her in the kitchen.

"You don't work to pick my cases for me, Hawkeye. Is that clear?" He slowly whispered to her, ready to walk passed her as she snarled at him.

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of-

"You asshat! This is about-

"A gigantic hound!"

This paused Sherlock at the double outburst. Helena raised her phone to him, he glanced down seeing the photo of a slightly blurry photo of a black, large creature upon a grassy plain. His eyes shot down to her, her dark eyes burned with rage at his words. Sherlock took her wrist bringing her with him to the living room.

"Say that again." He told Henry.

"I found the footprints; they were-"

"No, no, no, your exact words." He emphasized, raising his free hand to indicate. "Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, _exactly _as you said them."

Henry looked to Helena, who nodded to indeed do as he said with an encouraging smile. "Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic… hound." He recited at a slower pace.

Sherlock's head slowly rose, he took Helena's phone from her hand, looking over the picture on the screen again. Bitting back a grin he announced, "I'll take the case."

Helena beamed as she freed her hand from him, though John was startled by this. "Sorry, what?"

Placing the phone between his hands, Sherlock stabled his hands together as he usually did when his mind was running smoothly. Helena was bouncing on the tip of her toes at this as he walked across the room.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It's very promising."

John was lost, he pointed his pen at the now calm man. "No, no, no, sorry, _what?_" A minute ago, footprints were boring, now their promising?" John wondered if there were photos of said footprint on her phone.

"It's _nothing_ to do with footprints." Sherlock told pausing by the coffee table. "As ever John, you weren't listening. Helena wasn't even here, and she understood." John glanced to the excited girl, then back to him. "Baskerville, ever heard of it?"

"Vaguely. It's very hush-hush." As a military man, it was noted he'd possibly know something of it.

"Sounds like a good place to start." He nodded folding his hands behind his back.

"Ah! You'll come down, then?" Henry asked with hope.

"No, I can't leave London at the moment. Far too busy. Don't worry! Putting my best man onto it." He praised reaching over giving John a heavy pat on the shoulder. "Always rely on John to send my relevant data, as he never understands a word of it himself."

"Do you want me to go?" Helena asked, walking over to him in eagerness.

Sherlock sent a undetermined thoughtful look down at her. "Mmm, you'd best stay here, you're busy as well with me, Helena." He held her out to her for her to take, she did pocketing the device.

John frowned in confusion at the now hyped up man, Helena was as well. "What are you talking about, you're busy? You don't have a case! A minute ago you were complaining-"

"Bluebell, John!" He reminded him. "We've got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit!" He shot a look to Henry, "NATO's in uproar."

Now the poor man was more confused than John and Helena combined. "Oh, sorry, no…" He looked to Sherlock. "You're not coming, then?"

He shared a look to Helena who shook her head wanting an answer, but with a near kicked puppy look, he shook his head to John. The said doctor groaned at this, knowing what he was playing at, and caved in.

"Okay." John stood and smiled at Sherlock, who looked to act as if he had no idea what he meant. "Okay."

Walking to the mantelpiece, John lifted the skull revealing an actual hiding place of Sherlock pack of cigarettes. Helena's jaw dropped, throwing her arms up in exasperation. Seriously!? They were only just a few feet from him this entire time!

John shook the box, indicating some were inside, possible near full packet. He tossed them to Sherlock, who caught them but just as easily tossed them away, to which Helena scrambled to catch. She was not letting these out of her sight.

"Don't need those anymore." He assured. "I'm going to Dartmoor." He turned on his head, and walked out, calling behind. "You go on ahead, Henry. We'll follow later."

Helena's bright smile returned, she turned to John tugging his sleeve who returned a kind smile at her excitement. Henry quickly stood, still not understood what was going on.

"Sorry, so you are coming?"

Sherlock came back in, a gleam in his eye at the mere question. "Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

* * *

An hour later, after the boys packed, Helena hurried down to flag a taxi for them at Sherlock's request. It took a while, but one parked in front of the flat just as Sherlock came out. He smiled at her as he told the cab to wait, as they had luggage to bring.

"Excited, are we?" He asked, now adorned in his coat.

She brought her head out of the window looking up at him, attempted to hid her smile. "Well, it has been a while since you got a case." He tilted his head at her in a knowing look. She gave in, "And this is my very first time leaving London!" She near squeaked, knocking her knuckles together.

Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle at her antics, he doesn't think he's ever seen her so excited over such a small thing. "Nervous?" She looked up, at that. "It'll be a place you don't know, fresh map to take in and learn."

Helena thought on this, leaning against the cab crossing her arms. "I am a bit, now that you mention it." Sherlock shoved his hands in his pockets, listening to her. "What if my mind can't expand to another map, and I forget what London's is? Or, what if my mind refuses to try and learn about Dartmoor or Baskerville."

He shook his head at the very thought, not meaning to put doubt in her. Reaching into his pocket he took out a folded thick paper. She looked at it, taking it. "What is it?"

"A map of Dartmoor. I want you to look it over while we take the train ride there." He explained, as she unfolded the map, glancing over the legend and landscapes. He cleared his throat a but, feeling it grow tight. "If you feel overwhelmed and can't memorize it, don't worry. Don't pressure yourself too much about it."

The Tramp felt weight be lifted off her shoulders, despite all attitude and mean things he said to her today, it made her feel really happy when he said this. It was the most considerate action he'd done since- Helena's face heated him, for sure blushing at the memory of that night. Hiding her face in the map, she nodded rapidly at him

"Thanks, Sherlock. It means a lot to me, honestly." She told quickly wishing her face would cool down, feeling unable to look him in the eye now.

Sherlock frowned at her actions, but she seemed fine. He turned away, hoping he didn't make it worse for her. "Of course.." He muttered back awkwardly.

Finally, John emerged from the flat with his and Sherlock bags. With Helena having minimal clothing and no home, she had nothing to bring but the clothing on her back. Sherlock opened the back door for him, just as the sound of yelling came from inside Speedy's. Mrs. Hudson seemed to have finally found out Sherlock's true words on the wife, yelling at Mr. Chatterjee.

"-Cruise together. You had _no _intention of taking me on it!" She threw something at the glass door, thudding hard against it, bouncing to the ground. The two men recoiled at the noise, Helena's head shot up over the map.

"Oh!" John paused cringing at the anger of their landlady. "Looks like Mrs. Hudson finally got to the wife in Doncaster."

"Mmm. Wait 'til she finds out about the one is Islamabad." He added, sparing Mrs. Hudson of telling her a second wife.

"Pray to never earn a broken hearted woman's wrath, boys." Helena warned folding the map and placing it safely in her jacket pocket.

John snickered at her words and climbed in placing the bags in the seat against the driver, and took his own seat. Sherlock let Helena climb in next to sat next to the bags, and he joined in next to John.

"Paddington Station, please." He informed the driver.

Sherlock took his phone out almost to distract himself from looking at the person across from him. Helena repeated the same action, texting her brother she'd be out of town for a while, who wished her to keep her updated and enjoy the moor. She smiled and looked up, turning toward the driver to help indicate the fastest roads to the station.

* * *

When at the station, Helena followed her two men but looked around in wonder. Sherlock reminded her to stay close, as he deduced she had never been to a train station before. Helena had a habit to wander off when she was in new places, so he kept an eye on her. Almost a father watching a child, really.

The Tramp couldn't help but stare at the large, high glassed ceiling. Though it resulted her bumping into people, she didn't feel crowded or enclosed much to John's relief. He was worried how she'd be, since train stations tend to be flooded with people constantly. But, by the wonder filled smile plastered on her face, she was doing just fine. Though Sherlock wished she'd just follow or keep her attention on where she was going, as she rammed into his back three times.

The baggage check went well, as did the ID check. To which Helena learned Sherlock had an ID made for her over a year ago thanks for Mycroft, she noted to possibly thank the elder Holmes.

While Sherlock was showing his identification, after showing Helena's -handing her the card afterward- she noticed two other cards in his wallet. One labeled as driver's license, she never has seen the detective drive a car before. Deducing herself, she guessed it could be expired and walked over to John who just finished showing his military ID.

"How long is it to get to Dartmoor?" She asked him.

"Well, the train will be stopping at Exetor, only two hours. So, feel free to relax or take a nap." He told, though she felt he might take his own suggestion.

Helena was fine with this, enough time to read over the map. "Will we walk to Dartmoor?"

"No," Sherlock approached, finished with his check as the three walked toward the railway where a train was being loaded with passengers. "We'll be renting a car, driving to Dartmoor and getting rooms at an inn."

Helena thought back on the license, but maybe John drove too. She looked about, just noticing their bags weren't with them. "Wait, John. Where's the bags? Did someone take them?" She shot her eyes about, searching for the thief.

John resisted to laugh, feeling a bit bad she didn't really know how this all worked. "It's already been loaded onto the train, the workers took care of it." He assured, talking her by the shoulder and gently leading her to the train.

"Just take a compartment, and enjoy the ride." He assured, Sherlock followed rolling his eyes at John's words.

Helping her onto the train, John took lead in picking the seating, that was empty for them to take without any bother of other people. Helena noticed not many people on this train, which John looked content about this fact.

"Here we are, our own compartment." He welcomed, shutting the door when the other two entered.

Sherlock took a seat by the door, as John took one across from him. Helena looked around, seeing the ugly designs of the chairs, but the window to outside caught her attention. She opened it sticking her head out, watching the train master blow the whistle.

"Helena, the train's about to move, get your head back in before you lose it." Sherlock told, looking down at his phone.

The train shook, making Helena yank her head back in, in thought of it actually happening as the train started moving. She wobbled and sat down on John's side keeping her eyes out the window, watching the station leave before her. Helena felt a bit down seeing London grow small as they continued out of the city, but soon the green grass she awaited to see would show anytime. John watched her, grinning at her antics, glad she was having a good time.

Although, it only lasted for a half hour. As the train ride continued, Helena's excitement died down. John guessed she grew bored easily which made sense, Sherlock looked to be in his mind palace right now with his eyes closed and hands together, pressed to his chin. John looked to Helena, who now had her head pressed against the cool glass of the closed window. If he knew any better, he noticed she looked a bit paler than before.

John got up, careful not to bump Sherlock as he it was peaceful with him silent, and sat across from Helena to get a better look. "Bored, Helena?"

She didn't answer, keeping her focus outside waiting for that field of green and large rocks to come into view anytime. Sweat started to produce on her forehead, as her head bobbed with the train's movement.

"...Helena, you've never been on a train right?" She shook her head, no. John bit his lip in thought, "I think I have something to help you."

Helena frowned and looked to him, taking her head off the glass her body wobbled more. "I don't feel good.." She admitted, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"Don't worry," He told checking his pockets, sure to himself he brought them but was struggling to find them.

Without warning, Helena ran to the door, kicking Sherlock's foot my accident getting him out of his mind palace. She wrestled with the door for a moment, but managed to slam it open and ran down the hall in search of a bathroom, hand over her mouth.

"Damn.." John cursed not finding the pills anyone where on him. He noticed Sherlock looking down the hall where she went, he sighed. "Motion sickness." He told, rubbing his fingers into his forehead. "I swore I brought medication in case this happened."

Sherlock himself hadn't expected her to get motion sickness, especially on a train. He was so deep in his mind palace he hadn't even noticed how quiet she was. Then again, it helped him get into said state, so that alone should've been a sign.

"Ah! Here they are." John took out a folded up clear bag that held four small pills. The doctor walked out, shutting it to go find Helena.

Sherlock didn't move, through his memory he never experienced motion sickness, and from John's military past clearly doesn't have it either. But, somehow John thought ahead on that expecting it, why didn't Sherlock? He should've deduced this to happen, as Helena has never ridden a train before. Instead, he was wrong, thinking she'd be fine, riding taxi cabs before and always running all over London.

How could Sherlock not deduce that?

John returned to the compartment about ten minutes later, he found Sherlock still in his mind palace, hands steepled to his chin. Though he looked troubled in thought, closing the door, Sherlock looked up.

"Where is she?" He asked, not seeing her return. Was she in the toilets, still sick?

John sat down heaving a sigh. "She took an empty compartment, not wanting to bother us. I gave her the medicine, so it should help her." He shrugged, shaking his head. "I couldn't get her to come back, I think she feels bad."

Sherlock frowned. "Bad? What for?"

"Probably for getting sick- she didn't know she'd get motion sickness though." He explained, crossing his leg over the other glancing toward the window. "I'll check her again in another few minutes, the medicine might knock her out."

The detective bit his inner cheek in thought, he stood. "What compartment?" John looked up at him in question. "...I'll go check on her."

John stared at him in thought if this was a good idea. Then again, Sherlock has managed to do better with her when it came to injuries or health problems. "You sure?" He asked.

Not answering, Sherlock left the compartment, shutting the door behind him. John let him go, looking out the window. He was sure she would be fine in Sherlock's care- she always is.

Walking down near the end of the train car, he found his pet hunching over a small table in the middle looking down at the surface. He saw the map he gave her laid out for, she leaned her head in her hand, propped up by the elbow. She was falling asleep, no doubt from the medicine as John stated earlier. Her skin was less pale then he saw when she ran out, her copper like hair was up in a pony tail away from her face. A style Sherlock had never seen before, her whole face and neck was exposed then hiding under her bushy like locks. Finding himself staring through the window long enough, he gently opened the door , welcoming himself in. Helena looked up and sighed, sending a weak wave.

"How are you feeling?" He asked shuffling against the table to sit across from her.

"Fine." She mumbled, cringing as she cleared her throat.

Sherlock to tell she had gotten sick, John wanted her hair up in case she did again. He saw a water bottle that was half empty, she drank a lot to get the taste out and get her throat clear of any bile. His deductions were proved right, as she took a sip from the water washing her throat down.

"Never expected I'd have motion sickness." She shook her head at the possibility.

Sherlock hid a smirk looking out the window, as he folded his hands on top of the table. "No one usually expects it, honestly." He admitted.

Looking down at the map, he noticed she was staring at the map of Dartmoor, her eyes shifting between Baskerville and Dewer's Hollow. He glanced to her, seeing her head bob up and down, her eyelids heavy and threatening to fall. Her head shot up, and gave a heavy shake to try and wake herself up.

"How much longer til we get there?" She asked squinting at the map to try and concentrate.

"Another hour." He told watching her fight sleep.

She rubbed her eyes, continuing to talk to help stay awake. "I saw you have a driver's license." Helena stated pausing to yawn. "I can't see you driving." She tiredly laughed.

Sherlock's brows raised at this, she must have noticed at the station. "You've seen how London is. Best to walk, if not, take a cab."

Helena nodded, though she could've been just trying to keep it up from hitting the table. "I.. took a deductible guess that, umm.." She rubbed her eyes again, a bit harder. "...Heh, that it was expired."

"Rest assured, it's up to date." He told, seeing her folding her arms over the map.

It didn't last long, about a few minutes later her head rested in her arms, facing the window.. Sherlock watched her entire struggle, not helping her to stay awake nor insist her to sleep. He leaned his sharp cheek into his palm, watching her sleep the rest of the way there. He stayed silent, not going to his mind palace like he usually would when the chance was given. Instead, he stayed with her in case she awoke sick or some other possible thing to happen.

He thought back on all the cases she joined them in, nearly every case she was involved something happened to her. Accused of murder, broken arm, head concussion, her brother near killed, and herself almost getting killed many times. He still can't see why he stayed on these cases- yes he needed her. But for her safety she could leave at anytime.

Sherlock remember the time she almost did, and for a completely different reason; shame. Her deep secret was revealed to Sherlock that night, Helena planned to leave all because she thought he would find her repulsive to even look at her.

A hand reached out, moving some stray hair strands from her face as she slept. Out of near boredom, he started twirling the strands between his fingers softly.

But he didn't care, that was her past and hers alone. She wasn't like this now and it doesn't affect him one bit. It made him think about when he would know who was shagging who back in college, he didn't care who or why, he was testing his deductions. If he approached her on it in the way he did then, he would've lost her for sure.

But he didn't- no, if anything he got closer to her. Hell, he kissed her, as she did him. But, she was sure she had no memory as the subject was never brought up. Neither was this one, but his kiss was a proof of how he didn't care about her past. Proving if he found her as disgusting as she did herself, he would've never done the deed.

Others would mistake it as a kiss for… feelings. Though, he felt something in that kiss. Sherlock felt his mind had gone clear, like the running engine paused for a break. His breathing was even and clear, the urge for that… happiness, would call it? Impossible! Sherlock Holmes was a sociopath, he held his feelings and love? Ah! It was just a chemical defect, for sure.

That's how he saw romance to be, a human flaw. If his mind thought that, he was sure Helena thought that very same… no. No, no, she may night.

A frown hung heavy on his lips, letting her hair go and rubbing his fingertips on the map to keep from reaching over to her sleeping figure.

Helena was smart- a genius was him! Large, brilliant mind in that little auburn head of hers! Helena understood the hard life he lead; distance from people, claiming to not be with the angels, and even putting aside feelings to protect others. But, she was different in many other ways. Helena had a brother she loved and protected, like how Mycroft watches over him. Helena had her care of the homeless community, making bigger risks for those in need then just out of sheer boredom.

Sherlock and Helena were the same, but different as well. He accepted this, and actually liked this about her. He himself, would never waste time in helping people for the goodness of it, he did it for the thrill and action for his hyped up mind. Sure, he was annoyed by her small caring gestures, but at the same time, he liked seeing that soft rare side of her.

Today, she was happy, caring, and very passionate getting him to accept this case to help someone who suffered like she did. Helena filled in planks in him that he could never fill on his own.

Was he doing what he thought he was doing? This heavy, painful feeling he's had in his chest this entire time. The way he looks at his pet- his friend, Helena, and wanting to hold her close. Wanting her protected from any harm he has befell to her.

Sherlock Holmes was holding a human flaw: he loved Helena Shaw.

* * *

Within the acclaimed hour, the train finally arrived at Exeter. John went off to the compartment he left Helena in, finding Sherlock trying to wake her up. John was concerned if they carried her out, it'd look like they drugged and kidnapped her. Sherlock waved his worries off and picked her up none the less, asking to fold her map up. They were given some looks as Sherlock carried her out, but others looked at it with smiled and even 'aww'ed at the _romantic_ scene. John tried hard not to laugh at Sherlock, who was clearly irritated by look on his face. John went to the help desk asking for a car to rent. They were given the keys, and told the location of said car they were given.

Out in the rent parking lot, John used the car remote to spot a large big black Land Rover jeep to be their car. They didn't mind this, more room for their luggage and Helena can sleep in the back. John opened the back door helping them lay Helena down, he said she should wake up soon, which was perfect for Sherlock. She did after all wanted to see the sights. They packed the trunk with their arrived luggage, climbed into the front, and Sherlock taking the wheel, pulled out of the lot and drove off toward Dartmoor.

Twenty minutes into the drive, and John was hoping Helena would wake up to see the sights soon. "Helena's gonna miss this view." He commented looking about at the long range of country before them.

"Well, she decided to get motion sickness." Sherlock told keeping his eyes on the road.

John gave him a look, "She didn't expect it. On the way back, _you_ can hold her hair back when she gets sick."

"If anyone is holding my hair up, it's me.."

John looked back seeing the said sleepy woman sitting up, trying to get herself awake. Sherlock looked through the mirror, "Oh good. Just in time."

"Hm?" She rubbed her eyes. "In time for what? Are we still on the train?"

"Is my driving that accurate to a train?" Sherlock asked, as if taken offense to the comparison. "Look to your left."

Helena squinted out the window, then instantly glued herself to the glass gasping at the landscape. "Oh God, so much green! There's no buildings, just small homes and- Oh gosh, is that a stoned fence? How can that still be safe, anyone could jump right over-"

Helena kept moving from one window to the other. John laughed to himself at how she was like a kid on vacation. Sherlock placed one hand on the door pressing his forehead to his knuckles, checking on her through the mirror. The detective was finding it harder to not grin at her antics.

"Oh! Does the air smell different here compared to London?"

Helena rolled down the window, but hesitated sticking her head out with how fast Sherlock was driving. Would the wind be too harsh on her, whipping hard against her skin. Slowly, she stuck her hand out as a test, it didn't hurt, in fact it felt good. Helena tucked her arm in, and brought her forehead out, the window hit it hard, but not enough that it hurt. She brought her head entirely out, feeling the fresh clean air breeze against her skin. It was like a dog sticking their head out for the first time, she let her hair out of the ponytail so it the wind could fly through her hair freely. Giggling to herself, she'd find this the best case she'd ever been on!

* * *

The trio stopped just outside of nearby locations they needed to investigate. Helena found those huge boulders in sights from the car, second Sherlock stopped the car, she ran out and started climbing the highest rock she could. The boys followed, Sherlock up to Helena see what she saw. John stayed on the ground taking the map and binoculars, to help indicate each location they need to search. Helena felt a bit more at home with being so high up, placing a hand over her eyes to block the sun, she looked about on her view.

"There's Baskerville." John said looking down at the map, pointing at the large white fenced in building.

Helena turned toward the opposite direction, "Then that way should be Grimpen Village." she told and turned back.

"So that must be…" John looked down at the map to confirm it.

"That should be Dewer's Hollow, right?" Helena asked, crouching beside Sherlock to change her angle at the dark wooded area.

"Yup!" John nodded.

"What's that?" Sherlock asked the two, pointing between the compound and the Hollow.

"Those signs, you mean?" Helena asked, squinting to see better.

"Yes."

John looked through the binoculars, seeing they were warning signs, skull and crossbones. "Minefield?" He guessed, only thing to think when seeing those signs. "Technically Baskerville's an army base, so I guess they've always been keen to keep people out."

"Clearly." Sherlock noted.

Helena stored in her map about the mines so she could avoid them. She didn't know how far that field extended, so best to be safe.

Deciding to check in before doing any investigating, the three climbed into the jeep and drove to Grimpen Village pulling into the lot of the Cross Keys Inn. When the car got into park, Helena was the first out, holding her stomach.

"Sherlock maybe your driving _is_ just like a train ride." She commented leaning on the car.

John came around as Sherlock got out helping her off the car. "Maybe you should lay down when we get the room." The doctor suggested.

"No, no, the feeling's gone." She assured taking even breaths.

They passed by a group of what looked to be tourists as the man leading them was sounding enthusiastic about something. A sign with a wolf like black figure was painted with the words, 'BEWARE THE HOUND!' was on it. Yup, tourist attraction.

"-Three times a day, tell your friends. Tell _anyone_! Don't be strangers, and remember; stay away from the moor at night if you value your lives!"

As they walked past, Sherlock popped the collar of his coat up, pulling the thick clothing around him. John took notice, giving him a knowing look. Sherlock found the look, trying to act as if it was nothing of any sort, but obviously failed. "I'm cold." He excused, as Helena jogged up beside him to keep up.

The trio walked into the The Cross Keys, Helena read a sign outside, 'Boutique Rooms &amp; Vegetarian Cuisine'. She rolled her eyes at the vegetarian part, and walked in after the other two.

John went straight to the bar to get a room, Sherlock prowled around in detective mode, Helena tried to stay in said mode, but was gushing about the small little inn too much to focus. John watched the two wander about, completely different aspects to their job.

The barman and manager came over holding keys to their room, "Sorry, we couldn't do a double room for you boys. But we got two beds. For one room."

John took the keys, but tried to correct the man. "That's fine. We-we're not…" But with that smug look on the man, known as Gary, why even try to fight it? Half the reason John wanted those two together was to stop this whole 'gay couple' assumption. Maybe he could have a bed and those two-

Helena came up to John, smiling big. "Isn't this place just the cutest, John?"

"Why, thank you, m'lady." Thanked Gary, feeling honored by that.

John smiled toward her, waving the thought he had away. "Never thought I'd hear you say that word." He teased, taking some money out of his jacket pocket and handed him some money for a drink he just bought. "There you go."

"Oh, ta. I'll just get your change." Gary turned toward the register.

"Ta." He replied back.

She leaned against the bar, bumping her elbow at his. "I can find things cute, too. What do you think Mrs. Hudson and I talk about?"

John elbowed her back and turned down seeing a pile of receipts, she noticed his curious look, as one of them had 'Undershaw Meat Supplies' written on it. She looked up seeing the man distracted, and quickly ripped the paper from the spike and pocketing it with John. She remembered seeing that sign outside, she was sure John noticed too.

Gary turned back, smile still in his features. "There ya go." He handed John's change, who pocketed them with the receipt.

Helena walks off, seeing Sherlock still prowling about, trying to look like he was waiting on John for the rooms. Half right, but mostly he was just checking things out for the case. She follows Sherlock into one of the dining areas, mostly to make it look like she was going to talk to him. He found something intriguing with a dining table, but when she came over, he shook his head at her and continued walking about.

Helena was growing bored- John was doing one part, Sherlock another. She decided to go outside and 'prowl' about there. She walked past a guy, the one giving the tours. "Sorry, pardon." She apologized, almost knocking into the bulky sign hanging off his shoulder.

"Ever seen it- the hound?" John asks Gary, who stood by the bar with him.

"Me? No." He pointed out the door, Sherlock and John follow toward the boy Helena almost walked into. He was turned away from them, watching Helena walk off. "Fletcher has. He runs the walks- the Monster Walks for tourists, you know? He's seen it."

"That's handy for trade." John commented, seeing Fletcher follow Helena. In turn, Sherlock followed deeply in pursuit.

"Hey, excuse me?" Helena stopped, turning to see the boy, Fletcher, calling after her.

"Yes, Mr..?"

"Just Fletcher." He smiles in a flirty way, Helena looked him up and down.

"Well, Fletcher, is there something you need?" She asked leaning on the empty bench, arms crossed.

Fletcher set his stuff down and gave his full attention toward her. "I just never noticed you here before. On tour, maybe on vacation?" He shrugged with his smile still on, hands shoved in his pockets. "Maybe, could give you a _private_ tour."

Not needing to hear anymore, Helena stepped back hands up. Unbeknownst to her, Sherlock was swiping a half empty pint of beer ready to slide right in. He spots a copy of the Racing Post in his back pocket as he talks to Helena.

* * *

**Thank you SailorSedna052, MissMemory, for the follow and favorites!**

**Bored411- Right? It's gotten to a point that John has given up after the Irene Adler case.**

**Usually, no one ever writes about train rides are car rides in this show. Sure, we don't see them and don't get much. But we get a lot of cab rides scenes, and I decided to add my own for more cute time between Helena and Sherlock. To be honest, I've never been on those compartment trains before, so if I'm wrong on anything, I apologize. I researched the best I could.**


	33. Chapter 33

**Recently started watching a SUPER old 1960s show called Dark Shadows. I am addicted! It's weird though, cause the productions are shit and some acting is crap, (mostly cause it's a one take only thing) but, it's a better love story than Twilight- not even kidding. Enjoy! And Happy belated Independence day!**

* * *

"Listen, umm, I-"

"Helena, dear." A hand slipped around her waist, she turned spotting Sherlock holding her close to his side. "Find us a seat?" He asked looking down at her smiling.

Helena was lost at first, but remember how much Sherlock liked to act to get answers. This man, Fletcher, might have some answers. She in turn leaned into him, pressing a hand to his chest. "Oh, yes. I was just talking to this young man."

"I noticed." He commented, almost giving a near look but facade friendly smile at the same time. "Mind if I join?"

Fletcher looked between the two, almost finding it odd they were together. He shrugged finding no words, disappointed this woman was taken. Sherlock sits down, as does Helena, his arm now raised up protectively around her shoulders. They tensed at the feeling, but Helena kept the act up, for the sake of the case. Fletcher was about to leave, until Sherlock spoke again.

"It's not true, is it?" He looked back at the man. "You haven't actually seen this… hound thing." He scuffs smiling in that friendly gestured way.

Fletcher then eyed him up. "You from the papers?"

"No, nothing like that. Just curious." He assured.

"But have you seen it?" Helena asked, tilting her head.

"Maybe."

"Got any proof?"

Fletcher seemed to get bothered by the prodding the couple was giving him. "Why would I tell you if I did?" He asked, mostly toward Sherlock. "'Scuse me." He stood ready to make his leave, just as John arrived.

"I called Henry-"

"Bet's off, John, sorry." He cut him off, entangling him into the act as well.

"What?" Sitting across from them, he then spotting Sherlock's arm around Helena. Giving a look to her, she just raised her brows as if saying 'don't say a thing'.

"Bet?" Fletcher questioned.

Sherlock checked his wristwatch, removing himself off of Helena. "My plan needs darkness." He glanced up at the sky. "Reckon we've got another half an hour of light-"

"Wait, wait. What bet?" Fletcher looked between the three.

She shook her head. "Silly men and their bets."

"I bet John here fifty quid that you couldn't prove you'd seen the hound." Sherlock explained.

John finally caught on. "Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could."

Fletcher had this smug smile between them. "Well, you're gonna lose your money, mate." He pointed toward Sherlock.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow." He took his phone out, swiping his finger across the screen searching for a photo. "It was foggy mind- couldn't make much out."

"I see. Now witness, I suppose." His brows shot up in mock surprise.

"No but-"

"Never are."

"Wait." Fletcher showed his phone to Sherlock and Helena a photo of the beast, though it was the near exact same photo as the one Helena showed to Sherlock.

The detective snorts, "Is that it? It's not exactly proof is it?" Fletcher turned to show John, he squinted to see it. "Sorry, John. I win."

"As usual." Helena shook her head with a smile toward Sherlock as he picks up the beer to take a sip.

"Wait, wait. That's not all." Fletcher told pocketing his phone. "People don't like going up there, you know. To the Hollow; gives them a… bad sort of feeling."

"Ooh! Is it haunted? Is that supposed to convince me?" Sherlock asked, his real side showing for a moment as he put his glass back down.

"Nah, don't be stupid, nothing like that. But I reckon there _is_ something out there, something from Baskerville, escaped."

"A clone, a super-dog?" He near laughed at the notion. Sherlock sure knew how to work people like Fletcher, the more skeptical a person is, the more the believer is push to have them believe too.

"Maybe. God knows what they've been spraying on us all these years, or putting in our water." Helena looked toward John as he sipped his drink. "I wouldn't trust 'em as far as I could spit."

Sherlock nodded toward his phone, still not willing to give. "Is that the best you've got?"

Helena nodded, "It's true," She shrugged. "Photos can be altered or edited. At least, this day in age. It's not some Nessie." She told referring to the Lochness Monster in Scotland.

Fletcher stared at them, contemplating to continue with this banter or walk away. He looked over past them as a few people ate in the distance, his voice lowered as he spoke.

"I had a mate once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishin' but he never showed up – well, not 'til late. When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. "I've seen things today, Fletch," he said, "that I never wanna see again. _Terrible_ things." He'd been sent to some secret Army place; Porton Down, maybe... maybe Baskerville, or somewhere else."

Fletcher leaned in, propping one foot onto the sitting bench. Helena was all but sucked into the tale, Sherlock noticed but count it as her acting. "In the labs there, the really _secret_ labs, he said he'd seen... terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said, and dogs…" He reached into his bag pulling out, "Dogs the size of horses." it was a concrete cast of a giant dog paw print.

Helena's brows shot up, that must have been the paw print Henry talked about. "Gigantic hound…" She muttered leaning in to see the detailed work in it.

Sherlock was silent, Fletcher grinned at the reactions, just as he expected it. John spoke first, "Er, we did say fifty?" He instantly reminded, pretty sure the second he found out about the bet is when John aided the charade.

Sherlock gets his wallet out, handing John a fifty pound note. "Ta." He thanked, as Sherlock got up in a sulky like manner walking toward the car. John finishes his drink and follows after, along with Helena giving a 'thanks' to Fletcher.

"Next plan?" Helena asked as Sherlock unlocked the car.

"To Baskerville, 'my dear'." He teased, she rolled her eyes and climbed into the back, as John took the passenger seat.

* * *

The drive to Baskerville wasn't very long. During the drive, Helena watched the scenery again, though more calm than before. Throughout John's mind, he pondered if they could actually get into the base. He had military rank and history, so that was a possibility. Sherlock and Helena though, that was a true mystery. As the jeep was approaching, Sherlock looked into the mirror toward Helena.

"Helena," She looked up, noticing he was holding out hair pins to her. "put your hair into a bun, quickly." He ordered.

"Oh, uh, okay." She took the pack of hairpins and quickly got to work, though she never had her hair in such a style, it wasn't too hard with the help of the hair tie from before.

The car approached the gate, which that on its own was guarded by armed men and military canines. A man holding a very threatening rifle, holds his hand up for Sherlock to stop. He came around to Sherlock's side as he rolled the window down. "Pass, please."

Sherlock got into his pocket handing him a pass, the two were surprised he even had one.

"Thank you." The guard walked pass to check it out, while a German shepherd sniffed the vehicle, more or less weapons or bombs.

"You've got ID for Baskerville. How?" John asked under his breath.

Sherlock replied just as quietly, "It's not specific to this place. It's my brother's. Access to all area. I um-" He clears his throat, changing one word to another in his sentence. "Acquired it ages ago, just in case."

"Acquired…" Helena raised a brow, finding that term being used too loosely.

"Brilliant!" John softly exclaimed.

The two looked toward him. "What's the matter?"

"We'll get caught."

"No we won't!" He assured, "Well, not just yet." he half assured.

"Caught in five minutes. "Oh, hi, we just thought we'd come and have a wander round your top secret weapons base." "Really? Great! Come in, the kettle's just boiled." That's if we don't get shot."

Helena wiped her head toward him from watching the guard man return. "What?"

"Clear. Thank you very much, sir." The guard told, handing the ID back.

"Thank you." Sherlock replied, as the gates opened giving the trio complete access to Baskerville. He put the car in gear, and slowly made his way in.

"Straight through, sir."

"Mycroft's name _literally_ opens doors!" John commented.

"I've told you- he practically _is_ the British government. I reckon we've got about twenty minutes before they realize something's wrong."

"Like becoming a shooting range." Helena mumbled now drumming her fingers anxiously against the car door handle.

"Mycroft wouldn't let that happen, and we'll be out before they know, Helena." Sherlock told her, glancing at the mirror as they pulled over to park. "Just keep in mind, that you're my assistant."

Helena looked to him, and nodded. So that's why the bun. Looking down at her clothing of a turtle neck sweater, jeans and old converse shoes with her tan jacket. Yea, that was gonna pass as an assistant to Mycroft Holmes.

A soldier looking to be waiting for them, leads the three through barriers and to the entrance of the main building. Through the walk, they noticed many other military people, and some men in lab coats- scientists. Just as they made it to the door, a military jeep pulled up in a near hurry. A young man climbs out looking distressed.

"What is it? Are we in trouble." He asked quickly.

Sherlock spoke as if he was Mycroft himself. "'Are we in trouble, _sir_?'." He corrected, Helena questioned if his brother would go that far.

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir." He told holding his hands up to keep them from going any further.

"You were expecting us?" Sherlock asked.

"Your ID showed up straight away, Mr. Holmes. Corporal Lyons, security." He looked between the three, then to Sherlock. "_Is_ there something wrong, sir?"

"Well, I hope not, Corporal, I hope not." Sherlock told, getting impatient by this huge delay. He folded his hands behind his back, pulling his sleeve up. Helena looked down, three minutes have gone by.

"It's just we don't get inspected here, you see, sir. It just doesn't happen."

John noticed the delay, and spoke up. "Ever heard of a spot check?" Almost to assure the Corporal, he takes his wallet out showing his military ID. "Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

The second he saw the ID, he threw his hand up giving a tight salute. John saluted back, just not as tense as the Corporal's. "Sir. Major Barrymore won't be pleased, sir. He'll want to see you both… and her?"

Eyes went to Helena, she looked up, then toward Sherlock. "His assistant, of course." She told cooly.

"Yes," Sherlock nodded looking to him. "Never go anywhere without her."

Corporal was hesitant, but if this was Mycroft Holmes wish, then who was he to deny it. "Well, he'll want to see you three."

"I'm afraid we won't have time for that." John announced, sounding like a soldier again. "We'll need a full tour right away. Carry on." The Corporal hesitated, "That's an _order_, Corporal." He stated harshly.

"Yes, sir." Put in his place, he rushed to the entrance to grant access. Sherlock and Helena looked to John impressed by that action.

Lyons slid his ID getting instant access, Sherlock slid his own, it seemed to have hesitated for a split second, but access was granted none the less. Sherlock turned looking to his watch, the clock started now as the door loudly unlocked allowing them inside the facility.

"Nice touch." Sherlock commented quietly between then as Helena followed behind.

"Haven't pulled rank in ages." John told thinking back the last time he had.

"Enjoy it?" Helena asked trying not to grin.

"Oh yeah." He told, making her shake her head at that.

Reaching a door, another card key paused them. Helena counted these damned things were going to slow them down every few seconds. Lyons slid his, obvious access granted. Sherlock slid his own, access granted as well. Helena just waited for it to say 'access denied' sooner or later. The doors opened to a lift, that seemed to only go down from that floor. Lyons pressed -1, the other floors were labeled from -2 to -4, with a B guessing to be labeled 'basement'.

Reaching the first lower floor, a highly bright room where scientists wore white suits and breathing masks. Since they weren't told or given any to wear, Helena guessed it was safe to breath. Walking by some animal cages, a monkey with a collar around it's neck launched himself at the cage toward Sherlock screeching at the top of his lungs. Sherlock spun to avoid the arm stretched out toward him, Helena jumped at the screech and sped up to keep close.

She did hear animal testings here, seeing the monkeys were no surprise. She just hoped they weren't still testing dogs like they did years ago.

"How many animals do you keep down here?" Sherlock asked.

"Lots, sir."

Much to Helena's hope, she heard a puppy cry. As they walked on, she saw someone walking a beagle on a leash, poor thing probably wished to get out of here. Helena half wished now to have stayed at the inn, not wanting to see animals tested in any sick ways, like the ones she read about in some books.

"Any ever escape." Sherlock asks, watching the dog pass by.

"They'd have to know how to use that lift, sir. We're not breeding them _that_ clever." Lyons answered almost finding the question amusing.

"Shouldn't be breeding them at all.." Helena grumbled under her breath, John glanced toward her.

"Unless they have help." Sherlock added.

A man removed a gas masked leaving a room approached the group. "Ah, and you are?"

"Sorry, Doctor Frankland. I'm just showing these gentlemen around." The Corporal informed, pausing the tour.

The man, Frankland, smiled at the three. "Ah, new faces, huh? Nice. Careful you don't get stuck here, though. I only came to fix a tap!" He joked, John chuckled politely. Helena and Sherlock kept a cool face, she would've given a nice smile but tried to think like Mycroft's assistant.

Frankland passed them toward the lift. "How far down does that lift go?" John asked.

"Quite a way, sir."

"Mmm-hmm." John glanced to the lift then back to Lyons. "And what's down there?"

Sherlock kept his eyes locked on Frankland, Helena noticed but didn't follow his gaze. Usually when Sherlock stared off at something his mind was working to some deductions. Frankland in turn looked to them, near interested in the new faces.

"Well, we have to keep the bins _somewhere_, sir. This way please, gentlemen." Lyons continued the tour, John and Helena followed instantly. Sherlock hesitated giving a quick look around before following after, a bit behind them.

"So, what exactly is it that you do here?" John asked.

"I thought you'd know, sir, this being an inspection." Lyons pondered pausing in their walk as Sherlock caught up, still spinning about to look at all he could.

"Well, I'm not an expert, am I?" John retorted.

Lyons continued, having no choice but to answer his question. "Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir."

"But mostly weaponry?"

"Of one sort or another, yes." He swipes his card and steps aside for Sherlock to do the same.

"Biological, chemical?" Sherlock swipes his, Helena near sighs at the 'access granted' on the screen.

"One war ends, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared." He informed, the doors hisses, unlocking for them to enter.

They walked into a lab where two scientists were working with a monkey that sat- or now standing- on a metal table, leash latched to him. The creature let out a shriek and sat down calm as can be. One scientist, a woman was making her leave as she spoke to her colleague.

"Okay, Michael, let's try Harlow Three next time."

"Doctor Stapleton." Lyons called around around the corner.

Sherlock mumbled the name back to himself, hadn't he heard the name before?

"Yes?" She looked up, seeing Sherlock, John, and Helena walk in after Lyons. "Who's this?"

Lyons stepped to the side, hands behind him. "Priority Ultra, ma'am. Orders from on high. An inspection." He explained.

"Really?" She questioned, surprised at the notion.

"We're accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton. What's your role at Baskerville?" Sherlock asked.

Stapleton scuffs at his question in disbelief, not planning to answer him. "Er, accorded _every_ courtesy, isn't that the idea?" John asked to make sure she understood.

"I'm not free to say. Official secrets." She tried to hint.

Sherlock smiled at her. "Oh, you are most certainly _are_ free-" His smile broke off as his tone went to his usual one. "And I suggest you remain that way."

John side glanced him, Helena just looked around not feeling the right to say anything. Nor brave to have a word in either.

Stapleton just stares at him for a moment, but gives in. "I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up, genes mostly. Now and again actual fingers."

By this time, Sherlock had taken out his little notebook and started writing down. "Stapleton. I _knew_ I knew your name."

"I doubt it." She dismissed scratching her nose.

"People say there's no such thing as coincidence. What dull lives they must lead." He holds the notebook up, the name 'BLUEBELL' written on one single page.

She stares at his a bit shocked, Sherlock watched her expressions closely. "Have you been talking to my daughter." She questions, hoping Kirsty was safe.

Sherlock handed the notebook and pencil to Helena, "Take notes." He ordered her, keeping his eyes on the scientist.

Helena quickly too them, going to the next blank page, ready to write down anything.

"Why did Bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton?"

John was befuddled, was he hearing right? "The rabbit?"

"Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive." Sherlock continued, as the doctor just stared at him.

"The _rabbit_?" Helena finally shushed him, earning a look from him as she pretended to write fake notes down.

"Clearly an inside job."

"Oh, you reckon?"

"Why? Because it glowed in the dark."

Stapleton raised her head at his accusations. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Who are you?"

Deciding not to answer, Sherlock looked to his watch, twenty minutes were up. "Well, I think we've seen enough for now, Corporal. Thank you so much." He turns, taking the notepad and pen from Helena swiftly pocketing them.

"That's it?" Lyons was not expecting the leave like that.

"That's it." Sherlock repeats, "It's this way, isn't it?" he asks briskly walking towards the door he was sure they just entered from. John and Helena hurried after the detective.

"Just a minute!" The scientist called to them, but they kept walking ignoring her calls.

"Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?" John asks quietly, not to happy with it.

"Just imagine what your followers will say." Helena encouraged, earning a glance from him.

Sherlock swipes his card firsts, still getting access. Lyons catches up, swiping his card, as the doors open for them to leave the lab. He bursts through the double doors, walking as fast and nonchalant as possible when he receives a text alert. Without stopping, he pulls his phone out, near laughs to himself.

**What are you  
doing?  
-M**

"Hah! Twenty-three minutes. Mycroft's getting slow." He stated in amusement.

Helena glanced about, wondering if the charade of him as said Holmes brother should be kept up. Helena just near jogged to keep with Sherlock long strides.

The card swipes repeated once more for the lift, the doors opened and there inside was Doctor Frankland, no doubt coming from the lower floors. He smiles at the faces, moving for them to enter. "Hello. Again."

None the less, Sherlock and the rest enter the lift, going to the top floor. Once the doors open, their rush to leave was stopped by a man standing in their way. Another military man, dressed like Lyons al though he looked to be in longer by the gray in his beard. What Helena noticed the most, was he wasn't as happy to see them like Doctor Frankland was. Lyons looked nervous at the sight of his commanding officer.

"Er, um, Major-"

"This is bloody outrageous. Why wasn't I told?" He demanded.

Helena standing by John nudged him to do something. "Major Barrymore, is it?" He stepped out, to greet the man, as Sherlock and Helena stepped out of the lift to the side ready to leave.

"Yes, well, good. Very good." Not knowing what else to say, he held a hand out for a shake. "We're very impressed, aren't we, Mr. Holmes?"

The Major refused to accept his hand, Sherlock's phone pinged again as he walked pass. "Deeply, hugely."

**What's going on  
Sherlock?  
-M**

As Helena followed closely, John catching up, her own phone gave out an alert sound. She took her own out, seeing he was spamming her for questions as well

**What is my  
brother doing?  
-M**

The Major followed them as Sherlock's space sped up to exit the building.

**I swear,  
he has a good reason.  
-Hawk**

"The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense-"

"I'm so sorry, Major."

"Inspections!?"

Sherlock kept tossing excuses out to keep going, Helena stayed by his side, feeling her hands shake from the rushing adrenaline. She shoved them deeply into her jacket pockets to get them to stop.

"New policy. Can't remain un-monitored forever. Goodness knows _what_ you'd get up to." Urgently he whispered to the two, "Keep walking."

"Sir!" Lyons cried out slamming an alarm button on the wall. The room flashed red lights, alarms blared out and the door sealed lock. They were caught.

The three froze, turning to Lyons who approached the Major. "ID Unauthorized, sir."

"What?"

"I've just had the call."

Sherlock felt a grip on his coat, he looked over his shoulder seeing Helena grip it tightly looking around. Once again, she got into the danger zone of his work. Locked up, tightly, her fear would come into effect soon for sure.

"Is that right?" Barrymore turned to the three, glaring them hard. "Who are you?"

John tried to reason their way through. "Look, there's obviously been some kind of mistake."

While Barrymore held a hand out, Sherlock handed him the ID, behind them Frankland walked his way towards the group slowly. He looked at Sherlock best he could with the flashing lights, then saw the woman that was with him hiding behind him. She didn't look terrified, just anxious, gripping the back of Sherlock's coat tightly as he didn't mind.

"Clearly not Mycroft Holmes." Barrymore concluded, seeing the photo not match Sherlock's appearance.

John took a notebook out, as if to write something down. "Computer error, Major. It'll have to go into the report."

"What the _hell's_ going on!?" He barked at them all.

"It's alright, Major." Frankland stepped up, eyeing Sherlock. "I know _exactly_ who these gentlemen are."

"You do?"

Oh man, this was it. They're cover was blown for sure. Sherlock's right arm raised a bit in front of Helena instinctively. As if that didn't help her racing heart at this point.

"Yeah, I'm getting a little slow on faces, but Mr. Holmes here isn't someone I expected to show up in this place."

Sherlock decided to come clean, the charade was over. "Ah, well-"

"Good to see you again, Mycroft." He smiled offering a hand to Sherlock.

The three felt stiff at that name; Mycroft, not Sherlock? John tried to hide his surprise, as Sherlock masked a smile shaking his hand. Helena peaked around his arm.

"I had the honor of meeting Mr. Holmes at the W.H.O. conference in…" He paused, sharply taking in a breath to recall the fake memory. "Brussels, was it?"

Sherlock looked to Barrymore, then then Frankland smiling. "Vienna." He corrected.

"Vienna, that's it." He turned to the military men. "This is Mr. Mycroft Holmes, Major. There's obviously been a mistake."

Barrymore nodded to Lyons, he trotted over to turn the alarms off. "On your head, be it, Doctor Frankland." He threatened, not happy with it still. The lights light back up, alarms turned off, and the doors unlocked, opening to freedom. The grip on Sherlock's coat was let go.

Though the man laughed it off as the Corporal returned. "I'll show them out, Corporal."

"Very well, sir."

Sherlock spuns, putting a hand on Helena's back to lead her out the door, John and Frankland following. Once they got outside, a sigh of relief escaped Sherlock's lips, still leading Helena. Her heart was daring for a heart attack, she was sure, pressing a hand to her chest. She took even breaths, to calm down her heart rate.

"Thank you." Sherlock sent over to the scientist who sped up to keep up with the three.

"This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?" He asked, the men don't answer, but Helena glances over before Sherlock turned her back away. "I _thought _so. I knew he wanted help but I didn't realize he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes!"

Sherlock shows a grimace look, Helena glanced to him. "You're not going to..?"

He sensed her fear, and send a smile. "No, no, don't worry. I won't tell anyone, I'm never off your website." Sherlock perked up, never was his site mentioned. "Thought you'd be wearing the hat, though."

Ah, wrong site.

"That wasn't my hat." He denied.

He turned to John, who was struggling hard to hide his amusement. "I hardly recognized him without the hat!"

Sherlock repeated a but louder, "That wasn't my hat."

"Love the blog too, Doctor Watson." He praised, that caught John's full attention.

"Oh, cheers!"

"The, er, the pink thing-"

"Mmm-hmm."

"...And the one about the aluminum crutch!"

"Yes."

Sherlock might have found the blog talk annoying and turned stopping to talk to Frankland, his hand free from Helena's back. "You know Henry Knight?"

The others stopped as he looked between them. "Well, I knew his dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend."

"Then you know what happened to him?" Helena asked.

Frankland turned back seeing Major Barrymore in the distance watching them, he turns back to the trio. "Listen, I can't really talk now." He took a card from his pocket handing it to Helena. "If I can help, with Henry, give me a call."

Helena looked around, seeing the Major talking to another man but still eyes on us. "I never did ask, Doctor Frankland." Sherlock spoke, "What exactly is it that you do here?"

"Oh, Mr. Holmes, I would love to tell you." She looked back wanting to avoid the Major's stare. "But then, of course, I'd have to kill you!" He laughed at the well over used joke.

Sherlock didn't really react to it, only responded straightforward. "That would be tremendously ambitious of you."

Not expecting that response, he just shrugged.

"Tell me about Doctor Stapleton."

He looked around, as if said person would hear. "Never speak ill of a colleague."

"Yet you'd speak well of one, which you're clearly omitting to do." Sherlock called out on.

"I _do_ seem to be, don't I?" He just shrugged once again.

Finding the conversation over, Sherlock nodded to Helena. "I'll be in touch."

"Anytime."

Finally the three turned to leave on their own toward the car. Helena was walking faster out of the three, which was understandable.

"So?" John asked.

"So?" Sherlock repeated back at him.

"What was all that about the rabbit?"

Sherlock doesn't answer, as they reach the car going to respective sides, John noticed him popping his coat collar up again. Sick of it all, he finally scoffed getting their attention.

"Oh, please, can we not do this, this time?"

Sherlock looked at him confused. "Do what?"

They paused from getting inside, as Helena watched the two. "You being all mysterious with your… cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool."

He proceeded to enter the car, Helena at this moment took her phone out opening the camera app. Sherlock seemed perplex to answer, all he could defend with is, "I don't do that."

"Yeah, you do." He argued climbing into the car.

Helena removed her hair from the bun as she got into the back, Sherlock in last starting the engine up. She was relieved as they left the property, looking at the open plains to relax her nerves. Her hands trembled in her lap, rubbing her knuckles repeatedly. She refused to ever go back to that place.

* * *

**Thank you MissMemory, Ice and Fire dragon, The Vitruvian Woman, for the follow and favorites!**

**Bored411- Sherlock Jealous? Boy, it's hard enough to write him with normal human emotions. That's a real challenge- accepted! I believe the temper will be in the next chapter. Hold onto your seat!**


	34. Chapter 34

**This wasn't uploaded right away, out of my head in a book I bought and my ears in my phone calling places for a job. But, I obviously haven't forgotten my lovelies here, so enjoy the chapter I know you're all waiting for!**

* * *

Helena was silent in the drive leaving Baskerville, they were now heading to Henry's home. She heard Sherlock and John talk about the rabbit, and Doctor Stapleton have a connection to the hound case. As time went on, this case was becoming less of an enjoyment then she imagined. But then again, what did she expect from the cases Sherlock accepted? One minute she was enjoying the grassy plains, the next she felt her phobia hit her or… another thing come to mind killing her time.

She looked down at her hands, they weren't violently shaking but they still trembled softly from nearly being caught back at the facility. Rubbing them together, she saw the jeep pull up to what looked like a luscious large home. Four stories made of stone, it looked possibly built long before her own birth. Does Henry really live here?!

One side was old and hadn't been touched, but there was an obvious recent extension of the house looking more modern and newer. The trio walked passed the conservatory, looking to need more than just a paint job. Sherlock pressed the doorbell, only a few minutes later, Henry opened it, inside being just as large as one would think.

"Hi." Henry greeted.

"Hi." John greeted back.

"Come in, come in." He stepped aside, Sherlock first went in with John following. Henry noticed Helena wasn't taking a step near the door. He looked behind to the men for help, then back to her. "W-Would you like to come in?"

John turned back seeing Helena's hesitation. He stepped up next to Henry, "Would it be alright if she saw your yard, Henry? Helena's, er, getting used to the countryside and would like to see more."

Henry looked to her, she seemed nervous but nodded at John's suggestion. "Of course!" He smiled and pointed to his right, "Around the corner pass the small gate. Just, come in through back door whenever."

"Thanks, Henry.." She turned leaving wanting an open space badly.

Henry wasn't bad off, he had a great house, wide yard -much to her content- and if she had to guess, was pretty wealthy. But, even if he had the opposite life of her's, no amount of money can take away the horrors of his nightmares.

Helena looked around, seeing two double doors to the living room, seeing Sherlock, John, and Henry inside making tea. John looked out, and smiled waving to her. She waved back, looking around the yard. The patio took up most of the space, a water hose laying upon it. A bike leaned against the fence by the far off doors, must be how Henry gets about or just for a light exercise. Old wooden table set sat further out in the far part of the yard, and a double rocking chair in the other corner. In the middle sat a football. Helena plopped down onto the grass, she didn't want to ruin his lawn so she just rolled the ball back and forth between her hands.

Inside, Henry made some tea for the two men, making a third in case Helena came inside. Sherlock took the liberty to making her tea, adding her extra milk before doing his own, adding his usual two lumps of sugar.

Henry was explaining his recent session with his psychiatrist earlier that day. John and Sherlock sat at the island, their client standing on the other side gazing at the counter. "It's-it's a couple of words. It's what I keep seeing. "Liberty"."

"Liberty." John repeated to himself as he got a notebook and pen out.

Henry nodded to him, thinking as he continued. ""Liberty" and.. "In." It's just that." John writes the words down as Henry picks up the bottle of milk on the island. "Are you finished?"

Sherlock nodded, stirring Helena's tea now and then to keep it fresh. Henry picked it up and turned toward the fridge to put it away.

"Mean anything to you?" John asked Sherlock.

He turned to John whispering, ""Liberty in death"; isn't that the expression? The only true freedom."

John nodded in understanding, Henry turned back sighing eyes toward the back door. Helena outside was now laying down, arms behind her head looking at the sky. "Is, uh, is she alright?" He asked pointing toward the door.

Sherlock stood taking the extra cup of tea as he walk toward the back yard to deliver the tea. He didn't answer, only walked outside in silence. John watched, sighing. "She had a bit of an episode- nearly, really."

Henry frowned, he looked to John then back outside as Sherlock handed Helena the cup of tea helping her sit up. The two looked to be talking as she sipped from the mug. "Episode?"

"She suffers from a phobia, called Cleithrophobia." He told seeing Helena point at the sky, Sherlock followed her gaze. "It's like Claustrophobia, but a step up. She can't stand being locked in places or restricted movement; like handcuffed or tied."

Henry blinked in shock by the examples, what life has she lead!? "What caused such a horrible phobia?"

John sipped from his tea, with a small shrug. "We're still figuring that out about her. Though, Sherlock might know already and just wont tell. He knows more about her then she even knows about herself."

Henry watched them, the way they interacted was pure chemistry. "Are they..?" He asked looking to John.

The doctor just scoffed with a hopeful smile. "I wish."

Helena stood turning to Sherlock, rubbing her half empty mug with her thumbs. He looked to be talking to her about how she was at Baskerville. She nodded and he patted her shoulder reassuringly, she smiled up at him. John pondered if he was smiling back down at her. Sherlock turned with Helena following behind, returning to the room.

She smiled to Henry, motioning the mug up to him. "Thanks for the tea."

He rubbed the counter surface at her kindness, from his own. "I-it's nothing, Mr. Hol-"

"Extra milk, just like I like it. Everyone seems to guess it well, a bit predictable, huh?" She stood between him and Sherlock. Henry glanced to Sherlock who just raised his brows innocently as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

"So, what do we do next?" She asks the three men, looking between them.

"Sherlock's got a plan." John told.

"Yes." He confirmed proudly.

"Right." Henry nodded, Helena leaned her hand on the counter ready to listen.

Sherlock looked up, putting his mug down. "We take you back out onto the moor…"

He gave a hesitant nod. "Okay…"

"And see if anything attacks you."

John whipped his head to him in shock. "What?!"

"Yup, saw that coming." Helena commented finishing her tea, and walking around Henry to kindly wash it out and place it in the sink.

"That should bring things to a head." He explained.

"At night? You want me to go out there at night?" Henry questioned, possibly ready to lock himself inside the home before Sherlock could try and drag him out.

"_That's_ your plan?" John scoffed, "Brilliant!"

Sherlock gave him a challenging look. "Got any better ideas?"

"That's not a plan." He tried to reason.

"Listen, if there _is_ a monster out there, John, there's only one thing to do: find out where it lives." The two looked to the highly nervous Henry, Sherlock smiled widely before taking another drink from his mug.

Helena came up beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He near jumped at the unexpected contact. "I'll be right there by your side, Henry. If this beast even tries to come at you, I'll kick the beast right in the face before you can even blink." She promised.

Henry couldn't help but feel a bit better from Helena's go to attitude. She wasn't scared at all, at least not over this hound.

"You're not scared?" He asked, but then stopped himself. "Not that you'd be scared, being a lady- Not that, that has anything to do with it!" Henry tried to cover that up, clearly failing.

The Tramp laughed patting his back. "I've dealt with scarier things, trust me."

* * *

They all waited until the sun was setting, that Henry lead them on the same walk he and his father took to the Moor. Each of the men held a flashlight but Helena, she claimed her sight in the dark was excellent and it'd be unneeded. Sherlock didn't argue, although John was skeptic with what Henry said how dark the Moor can be. With Henry in lead, Helena walked close to him, Sherlock behind her, and John at the end.

They reached the woods and it was near pitch black, Henry kept asking if Helena was seeing fine, to which she happily hummed back a yes. Walking through the trees, Henry kept his trail memorized since childhood. Unbeknownst by the three, John was gone. Henry lit the torches left and right, making sure he saw the minefield warning sign and fences near by. They were closer than Helena thought they'd be, making sure to keep away from them as much as possible.

"Met a friend of yours." Sherlock spoke breaking the unbearable silence.

"What?"

Helena perked up, "Oh yeah, that Frankland fellow. He said he knew you- or your dad rather."

"Oh, right. Bob, yeah." He confirmed.

"Seems pretty concerned about you." Sherlock added.

"He's a worrier, bless him." They turned right walking by a steep slope on their left. "He's been very kind to me since I came back."

"He works at Baskerville. Didn't your dad have a problem with that?" Sherlock questioned.

"Well, mates are mates, aren't they?" Henry shrugged. "I mean, look at you and John."

Sherlock looked to him confused, Helena looked to Henry from watching the trees for any movement on her right. "What about us?"

"Well, I mean, he's a pretty straightforward bloke, and you-" When Henry glanced back at him, Helena made a cutting away motion to her neck, to cut the subject off. Sherlock looked to her, who stopped feeling his gaze instantly.

"They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad." The all stopped once Henry did, he nodded toward the steep drop. "Dewer's Hollow."

Helena and Sherlock followed his gaze seeing the dark misty valley, down the steep drop. Before Helena could ask the plan of bait, Sherlock jogged to the safe way down to the Hollow. "Helena, search up there." He called her, flashing his torch to the highest point around the Moor. She nodded darted off to circle the pit.

Henry followed Sherlock but stayed close to the edge in case a need of running off. Said detective beamed his light all over the ground, finding a paw print- no two paw prints. They were deep and fresh, the beast was near.

Helena was careful of keeping her distance from the edge around the Hollow. She watched Sherlock shine the light all over the ground, suddenly a deep loud howl pierced the night. A light shined toward her, she turned to block it and search about, it was close; close to her.

"Where the-" The sound of a ravage snarling made her freeze. It got closer, and closer. Counting from one to three, she spun quickly to see the-

"**AHHHHHH!**"

A scream even louder than the howl pierced their ears, Sherlock shot the torch up where he was sure he saw Helena. It was her scream for sure. "Helena!" He called, stepping further. Finally, he saw a figure backing up, "Helena!"

Not realizing how close she had gotten, just trying to keep away from the hound, her foot slipped leading another scream out. Thankfully she grabbed a tree root, to keep her from falling and breaking her legs. Sherlock ran forward ready to catch her, and good thing he did. A third scream erupted her, a painful one. Making her let go and fall right into Sherlock's arms, he stepped back to keep from falling, as she leaned into him holding her hand in pain.

"Are you alright?!" He asked rapidly, he saw her hand was bleeding badly. Showing him the cut, it looked as if claws ripped her skin; three deep cuts across the top of her hand.

A second howl broke through, all eyes went up, seeing the Hound- the gigantic hound towering over them from the top of the Hollow. All horror and fear ran through the three, staring at the demon.. But before they could even register it, the creature had fled.

Sherlock didn't move, he couldn't move. Shaking his head, he tried to figure out what his eyes just saw up there. Henry rushes out, repeating 'Oh my God' over and over again, toward the two.

"_Jesus Christ_, you are alright?" He asked Helena, placing his hands on her arms, he looked down to see the cut. But when he did, he backed up a tad, as if the cut was infected- then again who knows.

"I'll live, I just cut it falling from the top.." Even though she saw the hound up close, Henry noticed she was as shaken as he'd expect. Her voice was cracked and she looked paler than before, but not as bad as when she got to his home earlier that day.

"But you saw it, right?" He asked, wanting this confirmed as well.

"Oh, bloody hell, yes I did!" She exclaimed eyes wide in shock, "Damn thing was snarling at me! I fell before it could take a bite.." She turned to Sherlock was was staring where it stood. "Sherlock, you saw it?"

The man didn't respond, he only recoiled from the two, and pushed Henry out of the way running off ahead of them. Helena looked to Henry, ready to follow after him, he had long legs after all. Henry helped her out of Dewer's Hollow, despite his shaking nerves. Helena pondered what Sherlock was thinking, usually he rushed out spitting words out of what his mind was conjuring. But he was silent- silent as a grave. And the look… it looked like he had seen death itself. After walking through the woods, John finally managed to find the three, though this time Sherlock was in lead and Henry looked to be accompanying Helena this time around too.

"Did you hear that?" John asked, referring to the howling he heard.

Sherlock passes him, not even looking toward him. He joined with the other two, but was shocked to see Helena's wound.

"Bloody hell, what happened to you, Helena?!" John said, taking her blood covered hand, pointing his light against it.

"Just a patch up job will do..." She told, hissing in pain as the cold air kept beating on it. "Cut it falling down in the Hollow."

"We saw it. We _saw_ it." Henry told, almost happy as if assured he wasn't crazy.

"No." Sherlock denied, "I didn't see anything."

"What?" Henry ran up to him, as John listened but kept his attention to see how deep her wound was. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn't. See. Anything."

Henry paused, shocked by his denial. John walked passed, nodding him to follow.

* * *

"Look, he must have seen it. I saw it, she saw it, he must have. He _must_ have I can't…"

At Henry's house, John and Henry hurried inside, John leading Helena in helping her keep her hand up to stop the bleeding. Sherlock was gone, no where at the home, Helena guessed he went back to the inn.

"Why? Why?" He looked to him, then remembered Helena's injury. "Oh! Sorry, sit, sit. Sorry." He gestured to the couch in the living room.

Helena smiled painfully to him, sitting down. "Don't worry about me, I've dealt with worse."

"First aid kit?" John asked Henry.

The man rubbed his forehead to try and focus on that first, stepping out of the room to fetch it. Once gone, John bent down turning the top of her hand. "Hopefully, I won't need stitches." She joked.

John glanced up to her, she sounded as calm as Sherlock. He himself was spooked by the howling, and from what they said, they saw the hound. "You alright?"

Helena nodded, "Yup. Well, depends with this-"

"No I mean, er, you saw the hound. Henry saw it, apparently Sherlock saw it. Yet you're as calm as can be." He chuckled, "You sure you saw it?"

Helena sat up, without a word, she brought her other hand up showing it was shaking horrible. "My heart is beating out of my chest, and I'm close to breaking into a sweat." She told in a whisper, in case Henry came back any second.

"I saw that damn thing, it was coming at me when I fell. But, if I learned anything, it's that you have to be brave for those who can't, John." John's brows knotted at her statement, her face solid and serious. "If I started freaking out like Henry, then he'll end up encouraged to have a possible episode. Like me with my phobia. I'm doing this for him."

John understood her now, she was scared- terrified of what they saw! But, she was being a brave soul for Henry's sake. He saw the same thing between her and Sherlock; whenever she was scared, he let her grip his sleeve or coat, sometimes even his hand in need of comfort. His calm demeanor helps her in turn keep calm, if he were to freak out so would she.

Of course, how Sherlock was this time around he had to find out.

Henry returned with the first aid kit, almost dropping it as he handed it to John. The man just paced the room, unable to break off what he saw again. But he was smiling to himself, he wasn't alone this time! Helena and Sherlock saw too. No matter what he said, he was sure Sherlock saw it.

John cleaned her cut revealing three long cuts from her knuckles to the side of her hand. He was sure they didn't need stitches, but they would possibly scar. She was lucky they didn't cut her veins, then she'd for sure need the hospital. Helena hissed at the chemicals to clean the cuts, but kept her eyes on Henry to make sure he didn't start yelling or anything.

"Henry, would you-ow!" She hissed biting her lip at the cleaning.

"Sorry." John mumbled as he started wrapping it.

She glanced over then back to Henry. "Would you want to sit down?"

He shook his head, rubbing his shaking hands together. "Why would he say that? It-it-it-it-it _was _there. It was."

"Yes, it was there. We saw it." She assured, motioning her hand down to get him to sit.

Once John was done with Helena's hand, he got back up going to Henry, in attempt to get him calm. "Henry, Henry, I need you to sit down, try and relax, please."

"I'm okay, I'm okay." He told them, finally sitting on the sofa next to her.

"Listen," John went into his pocket. "I'm gonna give you something to help you sleep, alright?" He looked around for something for Henry to drink with it.

Henry just kept nodding to himself, Helena stood looking over her wrapped hand and glanced to him. "This is good news, John. It's-it's-it's good. I'm not crazy. There _is_ a hound, there… there _is_." He looked to Helena as John came back around with a water bottle he found on the desk.

"And Sherlock,- he saw it too. No matter what he said, he saw it. Right, Helena?"

She looked to John, as he handed the pill to Henry. "Yea, he did. Umm, we'll go talk to him at the inn about it. The fact he hasn't said anything concerns me."

John nodded in agreement. "If you need anything, we're in touch."

Henry nodded, swallowing the pill and settling himself in as the two left him in his house.

* * *

At the inn, the usual calm and collected detective sat by the blazing fireplace, still trying to get over what had just happened. His hands shook, pressed together to his lips trying to make of what he saw. Other people around the room were enjoying their evening meals in peace, all but Sherlock trying to comprehend what happened.

Soon John joined him, sitting in the other chair opposite of Sherlock. "Well, he is in a pretty bad way." He told talking about Henry. "He's manic, totally convinced there's some mutant super-dog roaming the moors. In fact, Helena is sure too."

Sherlock locked his fingers together, closing his eyes and breathing a bit heavily trying to keep a possible panic attack from happening. This was new, all… scary for Sherlock Holmes. Only time he has ever felt panic was when John or Helena's lives were in danger, when Jim Moriarty entered his life.

Never, had he faced something that scared him- him himself before.

John leaned over, not getting an answer from his mate. "And there isn't, though, is there? 'Cause if people knew how to make a mutant super-dog, we'd know. They'd be for _sale_. I mean, that's how it works."

He then remembered why he didn't see anything, some flashing lights caught his attention, causing him to separate. "Listen; er, on the moor I saw someone signalling. Er, Morse- I guess it's morse." He took his notebook out slipping through for the page he wrote the possible code down.

"Doesn't seem to make much sense. Er, U, M, Q, R, A. Does that mean..anything..." John finally noticed his distressed friend, it was not… right. Was he truly spooked? Even Helena was a bit shaken. But not as bad as Sherlock, she even got hurt by it- by falling. He put his notebook away and kept his full attention to the near panic Sherlock.

"So, okay," Sherlock closed his eyes exhaling sharply. "What have we got? We know there's footprints, 'cause Henry found them, so did the tour guide block. We all heard something."

Sherlock released another shaky breath, John wished Helena was down here to help calm him down. Just as he was the same effect to her when she needed comfort, but was it comfort he himself needed. John Watson had never seen Sherlock like this; he wasn't angry, he wasn't shocked. He was scared.

"Maybe we should just look for whoever's got a big dog." He suggested.

"Henry's right." Sherlock finally spoke, in a low whisper.

"What?"

His voice shook, "I saw it too."

John just couldn't accept what he was hearing. "What?"

"I saw it too, John."

"Just…just a minute." He leaned forward in his chair, keeping his eyes on him. "You saw what?"

Sherlock turns to him, staring intensely at him, his expression was terror; be it admitting the truth or what he had seen. "A hound, out there in the Hollow. A gigantic _hound_." He hissed with gritted teeth.

John almost wanted to laugh, as if it was sarcasm or an act. Sherlock looked away, rapidly blinked away any possible tears threatening to grow. John sat back, not knowing how to handle Sherlock in this state.

"Um, look, Sherlock, we have to be rational about this, okay? Now you, of all people, can't just-" Sherlock exhaled another heavy sigh trying to calm down, pressing his fingers together against his lips. "Let's just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts."

Softly, Sherlock whispered, "Once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains -however improbable- must be true."

John frowned, "What does that mean?" he asked.

Sherlock reached down for a glass on a nearby table, looking down at it, he noticed his hand was trembling. He near sniggers at the sight, "Look at me. I'm afraid, John. Afraid." He drinks from the glass, holding it higher to see the hand still shaking.

"Sherlock?"

"Always been able to keep myself distant-" he taking another heavy drink. "Divorce myself from… _feelings_. But look, you see?" John clearly saw his trembling hands, Sherlock glared hard at them. "Body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions." He slammed the glass down. "The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment."

"Yeah, alright, Spock, just…" He looked around noting their volumes were growing louder, not wanting attention. "Take it easy."

Sherlock doesn't seem to be calming down, if anything he was getting worse. His breathing became shorter in attempt to help, he kept glancing at John with panic looks.

"You've been pretty wired lately, you know you have. Helena saw the same thing, but she's more calm than you."

Sherlock brought his hands to his face and sighed in aggravation. "Helena, Helena got hurt by that _hound_." He hissed, angry at the apparent beast or himself, it was unknown;

"She cut herself on a branch, she said she fell and cut it then." John told, from what Helena said.

Sherlock dropped his hands glaring towards John. "You're a doctor, John. You should be able to tell the difference between scratches from a tree to scratches from a dog." He clasped his hands together, shaking still, pressing them against his forehead.

John leaned forward again, Sherlock shook his head in silent anger. "...It's not your fault."

"It is." He argued.

"No. No, it's not."

Sherlock shot his eyes open at him. "It's always my fault with Helena's safety, John!" He snapped, John looked around making sure eyes weren't on them- or if she was around to hear. "See what these…_feelings_ have done to me? I can't breath, sleep, think; when she's around my racing mind just…stops- it has never just _stopped_."

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. After all that time, he himself tried to convince this to Sherlock, the detective himself finally admits it.

"You love her." John stated softly.

Sherlock didn't answer, he just gulped down more of his possible alcoholic drink to avoid saying anything else. He wasn't denying it, but by his actions and not continuing the conversation, was John's view of accepting it.

"Jesus, Sherlock… so it wasn't the smoking or lack of cases getting to you." It might have played a role, but it did explain why Helena's presence didn't exactly calm him like usual. None the less, he had to calm him down himself. Guilt must be running through him over Helena's injury.

"This is her last case." The shaken up detective stated.

"You can't keep her from cases, Sherlock." He tried to reason, shocked he even consider it. "You saw how she was when she had that eye incident-" Bad thing to remind him, Sherlock's hands clenched and flexed outward on his thighs.

"That wasn't your fault." He told sternly pointing a finger at him. "She thought she was growing useless for your work. Do you have any idea how this will hurt her if you cut her off now? How this will hurt you?"

"I won't feel a thing." He argued.

"You think so?" John challenged. "Once she's gone, you'll be full of regret and…" He swallowed, glancing to the fire thinking of just straight up telling him the hard truth.

"You have to tell her the truth."

Sherlock shook his head, his hands tightened against one another. "Clearly not now," He assured, "For now, I think it's best to just try and relax. I think you've just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up."

"Worked up?" He took offense to that clearly.

"It was dark and scary-"

Sherlock found the notion humorous. "Me!? There is nothing wrong with _me_."

"Sherlock…" The man tries to take even breaths again, almost fighting a panic attack. He pressed his fingertips to his temples, fear and anger mixing together horribly. "Sher-"

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?" He barked a John, the two noticed a scene growing as the patrons gave odd looks at his outburst.

"You want me to prove it, yes?" He asked John who wanted nothing but him to just keep his voice down. "We're looking for a dog, yes, a great big dog, that's your brilliant theory. Cherchez le chien. Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?"

Without a single though, he looks over his shoulder finding two people, man and woman, eating at a table opposite of each other.

"How about them?" He pointed out, his voice sounding as savage as the hound itself. "The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. The answer's yes."

"Yes?" John managed to get out without spitting with anger himself.

"She's got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we're looking for."

"Oh, Sherlock, for God's sake.." He mumbled wishing him to just stop it.

"Look at the jumper he's wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly he's uncomfortable in it. Maybe it's because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it's a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books. Why? Almost certainly money. He's treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he's trying to economize on his own food."

"Well, maybe he's just not hungry." John said, although he regretted the second he said it.

"Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or an elder sister, but mother's more likely. Now, he _was_ a fisherman. Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive; fish hooks. They're all quite old now, which suggests he's been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he's turned to his widowed mother for help. "Widowed?" Yes, obviously. She's got a man's wedding ring on a chain round her neck, clearly her late husband's and too big for her finger. She's well dressed but her jewelry's cheap. She could afford better, but she's kept it– it's sentimental. Now, the dog; tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the knees, suggesting it's a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact it _is_! A West Highland terrier called Whisky. 'How the hell do you know that, Sherlock?' 'Cause she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that's not cheating, that's listening. I use my senses, John, unlike _some_ people, so you see, I _am_ fine, in fact I've never been better, so just _Leave. Me. Alone._"

After that entire thing, he just glares at John intensely who stares back at him in complete shock. "Yeah." He cleared his throat, checking around once more thanking God for a complete scene not happening from that. "Okay. Okay. And why would you listen to me? Or even Helena? We're just your friends-"

"I don't have _friends_." Sherlock spat out as if it was the most disgusting word he had ever heard of.

John stared at him, no emotion to his face. But clearly his patience had snapped at that statement. "Naah. Wonder why?" He softly responded, getting up and leaving Sherlock as he pleased- alone.

As John made to the corner storming outside, stopping just taking a breath to relax himself. He kept telling himself that Sherlock didn't mean those words, he was experiencing something he never had.

But it still hurt John, and if Helena had heard, it would've definitely broken her. No, no! She was stronger, smarter to be affected like that. She would've burst out in anger at him if Helena had heard him. But then again, he had no idea how she would be if she heard Sherlock actually admit his feelings.

John's phone had gone off at that moment, he reached into his jacket pocket, taking it out to find a text sent to him.

**Henry called  
He can't sleep  
Gonna keep an eye on him  
Make sure Sherlock gets some sleep  
You too  
-Hawk**

John hesitated to question it, but he responded.

**Okay  
Make sure to sleep as well  
How's your hand?  
-J**

It took a while, but he soon got a response.

**It's fine  
Sore, but fine.  
-Hawk**

Content with that answer, he pocketed the phone. In the distance he spotted the same flashing lights be saw when the four of them went onto the moor earlier that evening. Deciding to investigate, he took out his flashlight, heading toward it.

* * *

Henry was asleep upon his couch in the living room of his large home. He was indeed struggling to stay asleep, a large duvet over him digging his head deeper into the pillow. The TV played as white noise, but seemed no use, the lap next to it giving extra light so it wouldn't be too dark for him. He sat up, grinding the palms of his hands into his tired eyes. It was no use, he'd get no sleep as per usual.

Standing from the couch, he walked past the glass doors looking onto his backyard. Suddenly, a flash of the words 'Liberty' and 'In' flashed before his mind, he groaned rubbing the side of his head at the painful flashback. What did they mean? Why was this along with that nightmare memory?

A doorbell rang- he frowned turning around, was it Sherlock or John? He didn't get a call from them of any sort, cautiously, he walked through the kitchen, and to the front door. Henry took a breath, feeling nervous just opening his front door, he felt a bit shameful at that. But he slowly opened it, peeking around surprised to see Helena standing there.

* * *

**Thank you HiroOokami, Shade Sparda, ClaritaNox, MusicGurlForeves0105, Rosesroses25, Sophie Marcel, musicalturtle0906, Carrera, for the follow and favorites!**

**Nik1804- Ah yes, I haven't seen the whole movie though. It was made to possibly change the ending of the show or how Barnabas and Vicki end up or such, knowing Burton. So, waiting til I finish as far as the original between the two not to ruin anything for me. Plus, it was more of making fun of it, which is funny cause well, soap operas come on, haha!**

**Bored411- Been awhile since she had her panic attacks, sometimes I forget she even has this fear, but I remembered literally last minute. Well, when the time comes we'll see how that goes!**

**Rosesroses25- Hmmm, I really appreciate you asking this! I was worried the original stories or arcs were boring or such. I would love it to be more of Helena or maaaaybe new things? *cackles* You're wish is granted!**

**Does she know about the confession? Or just not being his fri- come on, pretty obvious right? I've yanked your hearts and dick teased ya guys enough, right? Right? She knows! WOO! Remember to leave a review!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Man, this episode was MADE for Helena, I swear. Everything is fitting in evenly for her, with just the smallest bits. But WOAH. SHE KNOWS!**

* * *

"Helena?" Henry blinked at her, she smiled with hands folded behind her back. "Um.. Hi."

Helena gave a concerned look, seeing the tired in his eyes. "Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you up."

Feeling bad for making her wait out for a while, he moved aside quickly inviting her in. "Oh, no, I er, just woke up to...Come in, please." She stepped inside as he shut the door. "Er, come in, sit down." He told, leading her to the living room.

Entering through the kitchen, Helena spotted the set up at the couch. The drugs John gave must not have helped him enough. "You sure I didn't wake you? I was worried and-"

"No, really, it's alright." He assured, rubbing his aching neck. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

She took in some air and looked to Henry, "Would you want some company? I mean, not in- y'know..." She cleared her throat seeing Henry's cheeks turn color. "I know what it's like to be up late at night with.. Terrors of the past and all that crap."

Henry counted her as a guest, so how could he trouble her with that. "Won't you need sleep more? Helping Sherlock and John with this case?"

Helena waved his concern off, sending a smile his way. "I'll be fine. Sherlock Holmes himself has gone a week with no sleep, and I've been on the streets so I probably can sleep in your yard just as comfortable as the floor."

Henry chuckled at her, assuming she was joking. "You can still sleep in the guest room upstairs if you'd like."

Helena looked around seeing the couch. "And you'll sleep on the couch?"

He looked to it, and nodded vigorously. "Yeah, yeah, it's-it's fine, really." Henry sighed trying to hide any sign of fear.

Helena chewed her lip, feeling she was keeping him from sleeping. "So, I, er, guess I'll head up." She turned to go up, but looked to Henry placing a hand on his arm. "If you need to talk or can't sleep, I'll come down, alright? Don't worry about me or my sleep, we're here to help you, and help I shall."

Helena bid him a goodnight wave, and trotted up the stairs. Henry gulped and told himself he would sleep that night. While thinking how lucky Sherlock Holmes would be to have such a kind, caring, and brave woman.

* * *

The sun rose the next morning, at Henry's house one person slept deeply while the other rubbed their tired eyes. Struggled through the night after the terrifying experience with the back porch lights, believing the hound was right there in his yard. Thankfully, Helena was there to comfort him, she saw him crumbled onto the ground near sobbing. She found a gun in his hand, but managed it out of his grip before putting it away in some drawer.

Through the night, Helena stayed up with him, but once the birds started chirping and the light was coming upon the Moor, Helena fell asleep on the couch in place of Henry. He covered her in the duvet, not wanting to take any more sleep from her than he already has.

He himself was nestled into the black chair trying to rest his eyes. Until a loud knocking at his front door made him jump. Helena groaned and turned over facing the couch, Henry stumbled to his feet heading to the door to stop the knocking. When he opened it, in bursting through was Sherlock.

"Morning!" Sherlock boasted cheerfully, he suddenly turned back grasping Henry's shoulders. "Oh, how are you feeling?"

The darkness beneath his eyes have gotten worse, his eyelids were heavy, he couldn't even focus on Sherlock- No, that was Sherlock himself ducking his head about to get a good look at Henry.

"I'm… I didn't sleep very well."

"That's a shame. Shall I make you some coffee?" He looked up at the ceiling, pointing at it. "Oh look, you've got a damp!" Sherlock rushes past as Henry looks up.

The smile falls as he hurries to the kitchen going through the cabinets rather loudly and rudely. He finds the can, checking inside taken packets out as he shuts the door with his elbow, pocketing extra packets. Sherlock grabbed two mugs and rushed to the island, as he started preparing the drinks. Henry walked in slowly, just as Sherlock was opening the other containers.

"Listen...last night-" Sherlock sent a facade beam as if he was actually listening to him. "Why did you say you hadn't seen anything? I mean, I only saw the hound for a minute, a-and Helena," He gestured to her on the couch, Sherlock turned near stopping his rush surprised to find her asleep here. He was spooning who knows how much coffee grinds into the cups. "She saw it too, even got hurt by it. How much proof is needed?"

Sherlock cleared his throat, turning back unable to distract himself now. But he glanced over as he slammed the container, she pulled the duvet over her head. She was clearly awake, so he made sure to be loud enough for her to hear him. This did explain why he didn't find her in the room this morning.

"Hound." He stated, turning back to Henry

"What?"

With intense eyes walking to him, he continued. "Why do you call it a hound? Why a hound?"

Henry was confused by his words. "Why- What do you mean?"

"It's odd, isn't it? Strange choice of words, archaic. It's why I took the case. "Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic _hound_". Why say "hound"?"

Henry stammered, unable to figure out how to answer his questions. "I don't know! I-"

"Actually, I'd better skip the coffee." He brushed past Henry heading to the door, he called over his shoulder. "Make a cup for Helena though!" And out he went, leaving a weary Henry.

He sighed, and looked at the mess Sherlock left. Deciding to finish the work, he got to making coffee for him and Helena. Henry heard movement, glancing over he saw Helena getting up reaching for her shoes beside the couch.

"Er, morning." She waved back, clearly tired still. "Sorry, if that-"

"No, no, it's not your fa-" She paused giving a yawn as she tied her right shoe. "'Scuse me. It's Sherlock's fault for slamming things about. The ass.." She rubbed her face and tied the left shoe getting to her feet.

Henry looked around, then down at the two mugs with coffee grinds in them. "Want some coffee?" He offered holding the mug up.

Helena thought on it, she walked over sighing to herself in thought. "..I should, but I need to get back to the inn. A shower should be enough to wake me up." She tiredly pats his back, and makes her leave.

She made her long walk, texting John as she made herself up the hill to the Cross Keys.

**Heading to the inn for a shower.  
Henry was up all night.  
Sherlock came by this morning.  
-Hawk**

He replied a few minutes later, indicating he was awake.

**I'll keep the room open for you.  
What did he go there for?  
-J**

Helena thought on the answer, she really didn't know herself.

**Wish I knew.  
Woke up to him slamming stuff  
questioned Henry then left in a rush  
-Hawk  
**

**Possibly upset about  
Last night still  
-J**

Helena paused her marching, she really wanted to tell John about hearing his confession last night. She felt someone had to know, and John was all she could trust right now. It felt embarrassing to tell her brother and Mrs. Hudson could accidently blab or talk about it to others.

**Can I tell you something?  
-Hawk**

The response was quick.

**Of course.  
What about?  
-J**

Taking a breath she typed her answer. Her thumb hesitated on the send button- why was this so scary to tell? "Damnit!" She cursed to herself and pressed it hard pocketing the device, fearful of the response she would get.

She made her way to the inn, she didn't see Sherlock and John anywhere much to her relief. Helena got up taking a quick shower. Stupid her though, not bringing any other clothing than the ones she already wore. She stood in the room they had checked in, towel wrapped around her, wet and feeling pretty dumb. A thought came to her, she looked to one of the suitcases and then to the ceiling near praying to not make it look like what people will think it looks like. Helena dug into the suitcase, taking out a white dress shirt, she groaned in annoyance.

None the less, she slipped it on, though it was a bit baggy, she put her tan jacket on over her and tossed her shirt onto a chair and left the room. Going into the pub, she was about to make her leave outside wanting to meet with John. As he hadn't responded back.

"Helena?" A male voice called as she paused by the front door. "Couldn't be, Hawkeye?"

She instantly turned at that, surprised to see the browned DI from Scotland Yard. "Lestrade?"

* * *

**I heard it all  
Last night  
-Hawk**

John almost covered his mouth, shocked by the words on his phone. He brought his hand to his chin, unable to think of a response. Not knowing what was through her mind right now. Was she mad, upset, happy, scared? There was a lot that came out from Sherlock, mostly just out of anger and fear from his experience.

Footsteps clacked against the cement toward him, John glanced up seeing Sherlock making his way here. He felt unable to speak so he put his phone away not responding to her. Sherlock stopped in front of him, feeling awkward to say anything, same feeling John had.

"Did you, er, get anywhere with that Morse code?" He asked, hands resting in his coat pocket.

"No." He shortly answered, and got off the steps making his way to leave the cemetery.

Sherlock followed him, like a puppy to a master. "U, M, Q, R, A, wasn't it?" John kept walking, refusing to answer still cross about last night. Sherlock thought of the letters in his mind, sounding it out as one whole word. "UMQRA."

"Nothing." He dismissed.

"U.M.Q.-" He tried again, thinking of adding periods to make it an acronym.

John waved it off at him over his shoulder. "Look, forget it. It's… I thought I was on to something. I wasn't."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

They rounded a small church exiting the graveyard. "How about Louise Mortimer? Did you get anywhere with her?"

"No."

"Too bad." Sherlock quickly added, "Did you get any information?"

John smiles shortly, glancing over his shoulder. "You being funny now?"

"Thought it might break the ice, a bit." He excused.

"Funny doesn't suit you. I'd stick to ice."

Sherlock knew what he had to say, John was angry. And through Sherlock's honesty, he didn't like it when John was angry at him. "John.."

"It's fine." John told, knowing where Sherlock was taking this to.

"No, wait. What happened last night... Something happened to me; something I've not really experienced before."

"Yes, you said fear. Sherlock Holmes got scared. You said." He rephrased from last night.

"No, no, no," Sherlock got sick of him ignoring, he sped up grabbing his arm to turn him around wanting to face him. "It was more than that, John. It was doubt. I felt doubt." Letting go of John's arm, he continued. "I've _always_ been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night."

John's head shook, "You can't actually believe you saw some kind of monster; you and Helena both."

"No, I _can't_ believe that." Sherlock then grinned. "But we did see it, the question is; how? _How_?"

"Yes. Yeah, right good. So you've got something to go on, then? Good luck with that." John brushed passed him, still cross for sure.

Sherlock knew he had to give in, he needed John's help, with Helena. "Listen, what I said before, John. I meant it." He called to him. John stopped to turn back, what was it had to say?

"I don't have friends." Biting his lip, he adds. "I've just got one."

One, one meant him; John, clearly. He took a step toward him, "What about Helena? What is she then; just a pet, a worker, what?"

Sherlock looked to the ground, taking in a sharp taste of air. "Love is a human error." John chewed his cheek, side stepping hoping he had more to say. Sherlock looked up, chin up and held high. "Helena is my human error."

It... wasn't exactly a confession of his feelings, but it was the best John would get him to admit. "Right." He nods, accepting that much and turned to continue walking back to the Keys Cross.

A sudden sight of realization came before Sherlock, "John? John!" He called and chases after him needing to further on this epiphany. "You are amazing! You are fantastic!"

"Yes, all right! You don't have to overdo it." John shushed continuing to walk through the parking lot of the in.

Sherlock catches up to John, walking in front of him backwards not wanting to stop. "You've never been the most luminous of people, but as a conductor of light you are unbeatable."

"Cheers-what?" John looked up confused by that sentence.

Sherlock turns wiping his notebook and starting scribbling something down. "Some people who aren't geniuses have an amazing ability to stimulate it in others."

John shook his head, "Hang on, you were saying 'sorry' a minute ago. Don't spoil it. Go on; what have I done that's so bloody stimulating?" Sherlock finally stops and turns to him showing his notepad, 'HOUND' on a page. "Yeah?"

Sherlock pulls it back and adds more, "But what if it's not a word? What if it is individual letters?" She shows again, 'H.O.U.N.D.'

"You think it's an acronym?" John ponders as Sherlock pockets the notepad and pen.

"Absolutely no idea but…" Sherlock's eyes spot someone in the pub by the bar. He's talking to Helena who was leaning on the counter looking tired, but he was happy and… really tanned.

* * *

"So, where's Sherlock and John?" He asked her as she leaned on the bar.

"Got me, I just woke up." She told shrugging. "More or less trying to figure out about the Hound."

Greg nodded, sunglasses over his eyes as he grinned. "Yea, heard about that." He eyed her up and down. "Is.. That Sherlock's shirt?"

Her head shot up, and tighten the jacket around her more. "No." She denied.

Greg lifted the sunglasses, to make sure he wasn't mistaken. "No- yea, yea! That's Sherlock's shirt, clearly it's big on you and you don't usually wear these kind of shirts."

Helena gave a glare, and let her jacket go. "You're a cop, that's cheating." She accused, referring to his detective skills.

Greg laughed shoving his hands in his pocket, as the sunglasses slid back over his eyes. "So, er, does this explain any fur-"

"Don't even go there, Lestrade." Helena warned pointing a finger, he only chuckled at her defense. "I just simply have less clothing than most people." She explained, not wanting him to think of dirty things.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

The two looked over seeing Sherlock bounding in not looking too happy. Helena instantly zipped her jacket up, Sherlock probably wouldn't care but John would question for sure.

"Well, nice to see you, too." Greg replied, expecting Sherlock to react to him being there. "I'm on holiday, would you believe?"

"No, I wouldn't." Sherlock retorted standing by Helena, she kept her eyes off him and on Greg. She really wished she had sunglasses like him now to avoid eye contact with Sherlock.

Greg took said glasses off as John joined them, "Hello, John."

"Greg!" John came over, thankfully standing between the two.

"I heard you were in the area. Helena," He motioned to her. "Told me you're investigating this Hound of Hell like on the telly."

Sherlock looked toward Helena expecting her to defend this, but she only nodded at Greg and replied showing her hand. "Is this good enough evidence?"

He frowned now noticing her bandaged hand. "That looks serious, a Hound did that?"

John cleared his throat, "We're still looking into it." He cut Helena from saying more, as he didn't believe this creature existed.

"I'm waiting for an explanation, Inspector." Sherlock turned the conversation back to his possible paranoia. "Why are you here?"

"I've told you, I'm on holiday." He repeated.

"You're brown as a nut!" The tall detective pointed out, "You're clearly _back_ from your 'holidays'.

Lestrade simply shrugged. "Yeah, I fancied another one."

"Tan any more, you'll be mistake as a tourist back in London." Helena joked with a smirk.

"Oh, this is Mycroft isn't it?" Sherlock deduced shaking his head at the mention of his brother. Let alone him sending someone out on him.

"No, look…" Greg saw his beer arrive, he turned taking a sip from the tall mug.

"Of _course_ it is! One mention of Baskerville and he send down my handler to-to spy on me incognito. Is that why you're calling yourself _Greg_?"

John and Helena brows knotted looking to Sherlock perplexed by that last statement. "That's his name." John informed, pointing toward said Greg.

"Is it?" Sherlock genuinely didn't know… or just remember. Helena shook her head at him, typical of him to not know things that aren't important to him.

"Yes." Greg snapped. "If you ever bothered to find out. Look, I'm not your handler," He picks his pint up to sip more. "And I don't just do what your brother tells me."

Helena's head snapped, so Greg _did_ know who Mycroft was. If it was true that he sent Lestrade, she pondered if it was the fact of her quitting to spy on Sherlock from him. She really hasn't spoken to him since Ire-

She leaned her cheek into her hand propped onto the bar, trying to get that memory from her mind. Helena almost wished to rid herself of that case, her thoughts wandered to the night before. She shook her head and grinded her palms into her eye sockets, not paying attention to what the men were saying.

"Helena?"

She looked to John who patted her shoulder, "Hm? Sorry, what?"

John looked concerned, but let it go. "I asked, do you remember the sign outside said when we came here?"

"The sig- Oh! Oh, yea! It said vegetarian meals only." She sat up, seeing where John was taking this. "The receipt?"

The doctor produced the paper from his pants pocket, showing it to Sherlock. "Here. We didn't know if it was relevant, starting to look like it might be." Sherlock read over the thin small paper.

"What could a place that sells vegetarian food only be doing ordering _that_ amount of meat?" Helena asked tilting her head glad to have spotted the sign, and John the receipt.

"Excellent." Sherlock praised under his breath.

John looked to Greg. "Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls might come in very handy."

Helena grinned patting John's shoulder, "Good eye, _Detective _Watson." She rang the bell in a rapid three times, "Shop, please!"

* * *

Greg now sat down with the two owner, Gary the manager that Helena and John talked to yesterday and a chef named Billy. It was obvious they were a couple by how they worriedly looked to one another. John stood by waiting with Helena, while Lestrade in complete DI mode, was looking through invoice paperwork silently. She was borrowing his shades, claiming the lights were hurting her tired eyes, half true at least. The sound of clanking was heard to the side where Sherlock was by the mini coffee makers. Said detective came over holding two cups of coffee, one for John and one for Helena.

"What's this?" John asked seeing Sherlock hold the small cup out for him.

"Coffee." He answered. "I made coffee."

"You _never_ make coffee." John inquired suspiciously.

"I just did. Don't you want it?"

"You don't have to keep apologizing." Helena glanced over at that, seeing the hurt look on Sherlock. As if John just just kicked a puppy. Guilt must have ridden as he took the cup, much to his flat mate's pleasure. 'Thanks."

Sherlock smiles at this, then looks to Helena who near flinches when he holds the second cup out to her. It was a bit silent as Helena stared at the coffee through the sunglasses, Sherlock watching her- waiting for her to take it.

"..You going to take it, Helena?" John asks, pausing to sip the drink.

She gulped and took it, but didn't make any indication to drink it or even acknowledge it's existence. Sherlock's brows lowered in question of her attitude, was she just tired or something bothering her? The sunglasses and her stance indicated she got barely any sleep last night with staying up with Henry. But she never usually avoids Sherlock or ignore him unless she's been angry with him. He listed many reasons on why she _would_ be cross with him, but none answered to her now from yesterday to today.

"Mm." John had a look of disgust down toward the drink. "I don't take sugar…" But he saw Sherlock with that look again, John decides to be the bigger man and just drink the damn coffee.

Helena sipped it, finding herself having trouble to swallow. Tea was one thing, was Sherlock bad at making coffee? She took a sharp intake of air and just shot the whole coffee down in one swoop. Sherlock, unbeknownst to the two, grinned at this success.

"These records go back nearly two months." Lestrade informed looking through the papers.

John mumbled a praise for the coffee handing the cup and saucer back to him, Helena did too putting her attention back to the investigation.

"Is that when you had the idea, after the TV show went out?" He questions them.

"It's me." Eyes went toward the chef, Billy. "It was me. I'm sorry, Gary. I couldn't help it, I had a bacon sandwich at Cal's wedding and one thing led to another." He told his partner, Sherlock grinned at the white lie.

"Nice try." Greg tells, hands folded wanting the full truth behind this meat order.

"Look," Spoke Gary. "we were trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know? A great big dog running wild up on the moor. It was heaven-sent." Helena rolled at eyes at this, crossing her arms. "It was like us having our own Loch Ness monster."

"Where do you keep it?" Greg asked.

"There's an old mineshaft. It's not too far." The boys looked to Helena who nodded in knowing the location. "It was all right there."

Head shot back to Gary. ""Was"?" Sherlock questioned.

Gary sighed at the memory, "We couldn't control the bloody thing. It was vicious." He released another sigh. "And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and, er… you know."

John walked over between them, asking, "It's dead?" he looked to them.

"Put down." Gary confirmed.

Billy nodded in agreement. "Yeah. No choice. So it's over."

"It was just a joke, you know." Gary tried to convince.

Lestrade frowned at the excuse. "Yeah, hilarious!" He stands as Helena comes around, looking fuming mad, sunglasses whipped off her face. "Thanks to you two, a poor man is suffering thinking he's gone insane!"

The men recoiled at her anger, glancing between one another. Lestrade walked out of the room with John following. Helena gave one last glare and marched out, she glanced to Sherlock who was peeking into the coffee cups. She decided not to question it, following the other two men instead.

"You know he's actually glad you're here?" John offered to Lestrade who turned looking surprise. "_Secretly_ pleased." He added.

"Is he? That's nice." The three stepped outside as the cold air hit them. Helena placed the sunglasses back on, despite not really all that sunny the brighter lights still hurt her exhausted eyes.

"I suppose he likes having all the same faces back together. Appeals to his… his…"

"Asperger's?" John offered just as Sherlock joined the three. Hearing that word made him give a side look toward John, clearly detesting that word.

Lestrade turned to Holmes. "So, you believe him about having the dog destroyed?"

"No reason not to." Sherlock answered.

Helena pondered, "Even if he was lying, could always go to the vets around and ask them about it." John nodded in agreement to that.

Greg shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Well, hopefully there's no harm done. Not quite sure what I'd charge him with anyway. I'll have a word with the Local Force."

"How about admitting to everyone it was all a lie and that they are frauds?" Helena offered with a cheeky smile toward the DI as she handed back the sunglasses to him.

Lestrade gave a chuckle and took the shadowed specs. "You'd make a good cop."

Helena grinned, "How dare you."

He nods to them. "Right, that's that, then. Catch you later." He takes a few steps away and turns back smiling. "I'm enjoying this! It's nice to get London out of your lungs!"

The three watch him walk off, John turned to the two. "So that was their dog that people saw out on the moor?"

"Looks like it." Sherlock answered.

"But that wasn't what _you _two saw. That wasn't just an ordinary dog." John pondered looking between them.

"No." He confirmed.

Helena shrugged, subconsciously rubbing her hand over the bandaged one. "I remember it being huge, but I fell so I didn't get a perfect description of it. But I remember…" The boys watched her as she looked to the ground below them. "Red- red shining eyes and long sharp, sharp teeth."

Sherlock's hand reached for her shoulder in a gentle comforting manner. Once she felt it, Helena recoiled and turned away. Sherlock assumed it was her usual dismissive behavior, John glanced to him knowing what it truly was.

"It was immense, and yes; it had burning red eyes, and it was glowing John." His gaze became distant, Helena looked to him at that last statement. "It's whole body was glowing."

Sherlock shook the feeling off, and turned away. Helena glanced to John and followed with him. "I've got a theory but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it."

Helena stopped in her tracks at that, return? To that chemical base jail!? Her hand tightened around the bandaged one, her mind split between wanting to help the case but didn't want to return to Baskerville after what happened.

"How? Can't pull off the ID trick again." John pointed out.

"Might not have to." Sherlock assured taking his phone out, he hit the speed dial and once the other end clicked, "Hello, brother dear. How _are _you?"

John shook his head and turned to Helena- but found her no longer walking beside him. Sherlock continued his way to car talking to Mycroft as John looked out for Helena. She was back a few feet away, he walked over seeing her troubled state.

"You alright?" He asked with concern on his features.

Helena gulped thickly, "...I want to help, but.. I don't want to go back there."

"To Baskerville?" She nodded and looked up, then toward Sherlock who was still on the phone.

He followed her gaze, and turned back to her. "Well, Mycroft will get us in easy, okay?" He told her gently and calmly. "They won't arrest us- or you. Mycroft will make sure of it, and you know Sherlock and I will always protect you. You know that, right?"

Helena took even breaths nodding at his words but her gaze looked as distant as Sherlock's did a moment ago. "..John?"

He offered a friendly smile at her voice sounding even. "Yeah?"

She sighed, and opened her mouth to ask-

"John! Helena!" The two looked over seeing Sherlock jog over to him, Helena instinctively turned away. "Off to Baskerville."

He turned back toward the car expecting both to follow. John hesitated looking to Helena who didn't move. Sherlock glanced back, and stopped seeing no one moving. He walked back and finally took notice to Helena's distance. Thinking back why she'd be like this, he remembered what happened last time they were at Baskerville. Almost getting caught and locked in that hall freaked her out, clearly she didn't want to return to that base.

* * *

**Thank you DeathConlon5, Storytelling-Doll, for the follow and favorites!**

**Nik1804- I think the only thing that does bother me though is how they had Angelique, mostly the actress. I have nothing against her, but Tim Burton really needs to get other people out there. (i finished it, mixed feelings about the ending) But then again, I did favor the old Chocolate Factory movie over the new. I'm just old fashioned it seems. But everyone has opinions, so those who love it good for you! =D**

**Bored411- AHHH- sorry, next chapter is the experiment! Glad you're enjoying this just as much as I am writing this!**

**Chapters have been well written ahead of time just in case I got a job, possibility is part time at Party City so chapters will grow to possibly every other few weeks to every month. October I will NOT be writing anything as everyone knows how much hell it is there for Halloween. August I might not post anything as well with parties, projects, and other such things growing about.**


	36. Chapter 36

**As I said in my last chapter that these would be written slower as I finally got a part time job. It's only 18 hours a week, but for the past two weeks worked near 30 hours 5 straight days covering people's hours. I hope it ends, my wrist kills me writing this and my feet hurt so much I can't sleep. August will have no updates, so next chapter will be September most likely, depending how it is getting ready for Halloween. Then we'll see how busy October goes as I work at Party City, so October is like a month long Black Friday. So, that's the update, enjoy the story!**

* * *

"I got a job for you." Sherlock stated, almost what felt like two hours of him analyzing Helena. She looked curious but at the same times nervous. "I want you to keep an eye on Henry. See how he acts throughout the day."

"Er, alright." She shrugged, giving John a glance then nodding to Sherlock.

"Let us know if anything happens and we'll let you know if we find anything." He informed, Helena nodded again and turned away taking a breath composing herself to make the walk to Henry's house.

John stepped over to Sherlock as the two men watched Helena's retreating form. He didn't say anything, the two soon left to the car leaving to Baskerville. The doctor glanced to Sherlock now and then, knowing he sent Helena off for relief of her fear more than anything.

Sherlock wouldn't need Helena for his experiment at Baskerville anyhow. John was all he needed, but with her at Henry's place she can keep in tack of how he is. Helena and Sherlock saw the supposed Hound, as did Henry of course. John did not- he had to figure the truth out through him.

* * *

At the large expensive home, Henry sat by a window looking, but he wasn't looking out of it. His eyes were casted down at a photo set in a frame, family photo of his parents with his 5 year old self. After Helena left, he was awake enough to shower and dress, but exhaustion caught back up fast. His eyes looked up, but his lids slowly fell giving in, desperate for some sleep. The second he felt the sweet bliss of sleep enter his mind, so did a flash of horror red and snarling jolting him back awake.

"Oh, God!" He howled in despair dropping the photo frame to bring his hands over his face. This utter hell he lived was getting to him worse and worse, he prayed Sherlock Holmes would find a way to end this. Be it the Hound killed or just prove he wasn't… insane.

The doorbell rang, causing his to jump and near yelp in fear. Blinking, he looked out toward the entryway, the bell rang again. Okay, at least that wasn't in his mind. Possibly it being Sherlock again, he scrambled to his feet wiping his face of any sign of sweat or tears. Henry swung the door open, his eyes traveled lower to a sheepishly smiling Helena. She waved,

"Hey, Henry."

Feeling his mouth grow dry, he gulped trying to register what was left of his sanity begged mind. "H-Hi.." He looked around behind her, she was alone once more. "Um, Sherlock find anything?"

In a near awkward effort, she shrugged her shoulders. "Not yet, but he and John went to Baskerville to get answers. He also mentioned about an experiment, but he'll keep me updated."

Henry was a bit confused; be it the lack of sleep causing this he didn't know. "Um," He leaned on the door trying to hide his obvious anxiety and recent freakout. It was a bit awkward as he tried to form some words to say to her.

She must have read the tense look as she welcomed herself in, and shut the door. Helena walked to the living room, Henry followed seeing her go through his cabinets almost like Sherlock had that morning- only more calm and respective with no slamming about. She got contents to make tea, she seemed to be thriving for it, not a coffee fan really. Henry stayed silent for a while, as she put the kettle she found under the sink on the stove top full of water.

"Would you happen to have any honey?" She asked, almost removing her coat but paused remembering the shirt she was wearing.

Henry snapped out of his trance and rushed to a lower cabinet taking out a small jar that had about half of the golden yellow sweet substance. "H-Here.." She smiled in thanks and got a two spoons out from a nearby drawer.

"Did you know that honey is good for high tension nerves and even helps sleep?" She asked looking through the different assorted tea bags. When Henry didn't answer, she continued. "You see, honey contains simple sugars like fructose and glucose, they can be absorbed into the blood fairly quickly. They say having a spoonful of honey everyday is really healthy for your body. When stressed or need some sleep, take a spoonful of honey."

Finding the right tea just as the kettle whistled, Helena put the tea bags of chamomile into the small cups and poured the hot water into each cup. Henry watched how careful and delicate she was being, as she dug the spoon into the honey jar and adding a spoonful to each cup stirring the hot drinks.

Henry's head shook, confused where this was all coming from. "Why-Why are you telling me this?" He asks as she walked over and handed him a cup.

"After getting little sleep, we both could use it. Plus, I can tell you're stressed and upset." She grinned stirring her drink. "Sherlock isn't the only one that can read people." Helena turned and walked over to a sink in chair and removed her shoes sitting down tucking them under her.

One would she was welcoming herself a bit too much, but that's how Helena was- now. Originally she would've just hung about outside like yesterday not evening daring to enter the home. This was a sign of a huge change that Sherlock had caused her, becoming domesticated. Though, she had pondered if this was good or bad.

Henry joined her, sitting on his now cleared off couch. The air had a silent feel, as she enjoyed her sweet tea, Henry when hesitant of it. But didn't want to offend her kind offer. He gave a small taste bring the cup to his lips, Helena smirked as his went wide at the taste.

"Hope it isn't too sweet." She told. "I haven't done that in a long while. He'd be cross knowing I wasn't having that everyday."

Henry glanced up, "Mr. Holmes?" He asked, remembering their interaction yesterday.

"Oh, no!" She laughed, "Sorry, I meant my father. Sherlock barely takes care of himself."

Henry almost felt envious at the mention of a father, "That must be nice." He said nodding trying not to sound it.

Helena only shrugged, "I wouldn't really know." she admitted. He looked to her a bit confused, she noticed and sighed with a smile. "My father died when I was very young."

Guilt ran through him, his jaw bobbed trying to say something. Helena chuckled at him, Henry was dumbfounded by her emotions to such a subject. "I'm sorry." Was all that came to him.

"Don't be, you didn't know. I wasn't as young as you, but young enough. Saw it before my eyes." Her thumb rubbed against the cup, she took another sip. "His death lead me off to the bad streets."

"Bad?" He questioned. "You seem perfectly good."

"You haven't seen my daily life, Henry. I'm homeless; A street rat, hobo, tra-" She paused, finally her smile filtered. No longer could she use that word the same.

Henry cleared his throat, glancing down at his remaining tea. "You don't live with Mr. Holmes?" It seemed like a large assumption, but they had to have been close enough to be flatmates let alone a possible thing.

Helena tilted her head at the question. "Well, yes and no." She looked up seeing Henry didn't understand. "I spend some nights there, usually when we're on a case. You see, I work for Sherlock too." She tapped the side of her head with her index finger. "Sherlock has a Mind Palace, I have a Mind Map; I can map out all of London and get the fastest routes and secret ways to get to locations. Sherlock uses it to get to places fast or figure out where address are."

"Work," Henry figured noding. "So, he pays you or let's you sleep at your flat?" He tried to clear up, the honey helped relax his nerves indeed though his mind was still foggy wanting sleep.

Helena didn't answer, she gave a shrug and sighed wanting to not think of what anything between her and Sherlock was. "Sherlock helped me; back when my father died I left home from my mother. She blamed me for his father, which I accepted and left home. I was homeless for over twelve years, then I met John and Sherlock." A smile graced her lips at the memory. "They helped me, I helped them.. They saved my life many, many times."

Henry's lips tugged up at her smile, she was extremely fond of the two men. Possibly her only friends in her life.

"He helped me rekindle with my brother, who I left to my mother years ago. He's a sweet kid, you remind me of him." Helena giggled getting to her feet, walking to the kitchen to put the cup in the sink. Henry looked down at his own cup, feeling bashful. He got up placing the cup in the sink as well.

"You have a good brother, right?" He asked, trying not to sound envious again.

"Oh yea, good grades, great girlfriend." She smirked, and looked to Henry who stood by.

Henry was astounded- She was homeless right after her father died, right in front of her too, lived on the streets for so many years by herself. Yet, she was living more normal than himself. He has this huge safe house, people there for him like Frankland.

"Why did you tell me all this?" He asked, leaning on the counter with knitted brows.

Helena looked up and patted his shoulder, "Just to remind you, you're not alone."

Before Henry could reply, the doorbell rang. Their heads turned toward the direction, Henry walked toward the entryway. "That might be-"

"Louise Mortimer?" Helena asked, removing her hand and shoved both into her pocket. Henry paused to turn to her, she shrugged. "I don't want to disrupt an appointment." She told, hinting to possibly leave.

"No, no. Um, er... you can sit with us if you want." He offered extending his arm toward the couch.

Helena waved her arm, "No, I couldn't. But, would it be alright if I took a nap in the guest room? Sherlock might need me and I should be in top shape to catch the Hound." She excused, rubbing her neck.

"Oh! Sure, sure." He nodded vigorously motioned toward the stairs. "You're welcome to come down and join anytime." He assured.

She nodded and walked toward the stairway, making her way up she spotted the first guest room to her right. The second she walked in, she collapsed right onto the bed with a large sigh, closing her eyes. Helena fell asleep instantly.

* * *

Back at Baskerville, John was still a bit pale from a recent fear induced attack he experienced in the one lab that held the animals. He sighed now and then, sitting at a stool staring at nothing in particular. His head propped up by his hand trying to get the images out of his head, Sherlock may have made up the bit with the glowing but he could understand why he was so shaken up the night before now. Said detective was sitting at another table looking through one of Doctor Stapleton's microscopes, looking left and right of it doing two other experiments.

"Are you sure _you're _okay?" Asked Stapleton, who stood by him watching Sherlock work. John looked up blinking out of his gaze. "You look very peaky." She noted.

"No, I'm alright." He assured resting his arm off the table side. It was a good thing Helena wasn't here, he thought.

"It was GFP gene from a jellyfish, in case you're interested." Stapleton stated sounding proud.

"What?"

"In the rabbits."

John wasn't even thinking that, nor was he really that interested. "Mmm, right, yes."

"Aeqouria Victoria, if you really want to know." She offered again.

He really didn't want to, but what else was there to talk about. Probably best to get his mind off recent events. Looking up, he longed out a "Why?" to her.

"Why not?" She countered with a grin. "We don't ask questions like that here. It isn't done." That explained why she was up on talking about it. All hush hush around here. "There was a mix-up, anyway. My daughter ended up with the one with the lab specimens, so poor Bluebell had to go."

John heard no heartful guilt in her words of her daughter's dead rabbit. "Your compassions overwhelming." He retorted, reaching for a mug to take a sip.

"I know." She mocked back. "I hate myself sometimes."

Instant thought came to John; she clearly wanted to express her works or if any at Baskerville since it's such a tight secret base. Maybe he can get something out of her about the Hound. "So, come on then." He whispered, "You can trust me- I'm a doctor. What else have you got hidden away up here?"

A growingly aggravated Sherlock took a slide out he was examining. Stapleton let a sigh out, "Listen; if you can imagine it, someone is probably doing it somewhere. Of _course_ they are."

"And cloning?" He asked looking from Sherlock noticing his irritation.

"Yes, of course. Dolly the Sheep, remember?"

He nodded, though he didn't very long from what he heard. "Human cloning?" He asked thinking maybe that step was closer.

"Why not?"

"What about animals? Not sheep… big animals." Would the hound count as a big animal? Well, some dogs could be after all.

"Size isn't the problem, not at all. The only limits are ethics and the law, and both those things can be very… flexible." John's brows rose up, understanding that made sense. "But not here- not at Baskerville."

"It's not there!" Suddenly Sherlock stood hurling a slide from the scope and throwing it against a wall across the room.

The two jumped at his sudden outburst and shatter and small glass. "Jesus!"

"Nothing there! Doesn't make any sense." Sherlock started pacing about at this new blockade he encountered with.

"What were you expecting to find?" Stapleton asked.

"A drug, of course." He answered still pacing back and forth in front of them. "There has to be a drug- a hallucinogenic or a dilerient of some kind. There's no trace of anything in the sugar."

John turned to him. "Sugar?" He eyed his cup now.

The sugar, yes. It's a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound, saw it as my imagination expected me to see it; a genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldn't believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics. Henry Knight and Helena, they saw it too" He stopped pointing at his flatmate. "but you didn't, John. You didn't see it." He continued his pacing. "Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one thing; you don't take sugar in your coffee."

"I see. So-"

Sherlock continued not giving John a chance to ask the old what, how, and 'I don't follow'.

"I took it from Henry's kitchen, his sugar." He sent another look into the microscope, and turned away annoyed. "Perfectly alright."

John shifted on the stool. "But maybe it's not a drug." He suggested.

"No, it _has_ to be a drug." The pacing man insisted growing angry at this block in his, Sherlock fished his mobile phone out and quickly started typing.

"Who are you texting?" Stapleton asked noticing the contact list on the screen from her view.

"Helena, she might be able to find something at the inn or- or.. Just something!"

John had seen Sherlock stomped on cases before, but not enough that it made him this desperate for a conclusion. After a few seconds no response was made, he placed the phone on the counter and sat down at a stool burying his head in his hands. Nothing, his mind had nothing on this matter couldn't get the answer!

"But how did it get into our systems. _How_?" He asked himself, raising his head eyes tightly shut. "There has to be something… something." Sherlock's head tilted left and right, he saw hound faintly but not enough. "... Ah, something.." His eyes shot open suddenly. "Something buried deep."

Sherlock's arm pointed toward Doctor Stapleton and he softly demanded, "Get out." motioning to the door.

The scientist was taken back by this. "What?"

"Get out. I need to go to my Mind Palace."

"Your what?"

John sighed at this as Sherlock was already staring out into nothing, hands resting at his thighs. "He's not gonna be doing much talking for a while." He told, reaching for his jacket and getting to his feet.

Stapleton followed John, asking once more "His what?" dumbfounded what he had said.

"Oh, his Mind Palace." He started explaining as the two walked past the non moving detective to the exit. "It's a memory technique, sort of a mental map. You plot a map with a location -it doesn't have to be a real palace- and then you deposit memories there that... Theoretically, you can never forget anything; all you have to do is find your way back to it. Helena can do it too, but.." John glanced back as they paused by the door. "She never usually needs to be alone or kick anyone out."

Stapleton seemed to understand it, the way John explained it. "So this imaginary location can be anything; a house or a street."

"Yeah."

She looked back to Sherlock, "But he said 'palace'. He said it was a _palace_."

John took in some air following her sight back to him, "Yeah, well, he would, wouldn't he?" He knew Sherlock would be a complete drama queen. The two left him alone, John pondered how Helena was doing.

* * *

Helena was trying to wake up from her long perfect nap, sitting up in the guest bed she stretched her arms over her head with a deep groan. Her head was still heavy and foggy, never did she want that little sleep unless it was for Sherlock's- well, could this count as part of the case?

She sighed and looked down at the beige carpet spacing out in thought, she hoped Sherlock and John found something in Baskerville. Reaching for her phone to see any news, she found a text from Sherlock

**Find anything at the inn?**

**Food?**

**Drinks?**

**Anything?**

**-SH**

She frowned, what was he texting this for? Food? Drinks? Helena was about to text back questioning these requests, when a sudden shot of a gun rang out in the house. She jumped to her feet, but froze not hearing anything else. Was Henry and Mortimer alright!?

She took a deep sharp breath, putting her fear aside. Helena had to make sure they were alright. She ran out of the room and down the stairs, the sound of sobbing was now heard in the sitting room. She emerged at the doorway, shocked to what sight she found; Henry was pointing a gun at the mirror, beside the shattered reflection was a terrified crying Louise curled in the corner. Henry wasn't in the current state of mind, until the sobbing of his psychiatrist brought him back to reality.

"Oh my God." His eyes shift from the cracks of himself to the gun in his hand. When had this happened, when and how? "Oh my God. Oh my God. I am so… I am so sorry. I am _so sorry_.."

"Henry?" Helene spoke softly stepping into the room, he jumped and whipped his head in her direction. She stopped, seeing his hand slightly raise the gun. "Ple...Please, Henry?"

"H-Helena… I.." He saw it, finally saw it in the eyes of the woman he saw was so brave and strong; fear. He looked down at the gun again, and backed up, running out of the other doorway of the room.

"Henry! Wait, Henry!" She cursed to herself hearing the door swing open, he was gone! Helena ran over to Louise to make sure she wasn't shot or hurt, she was still crying trying to calm down of what just happened.

"Are you hurt, any injury or anything?" She asked hastily, looking about on her coiled body as best as she could. Louise shook her head, covering her face with her hands wailing to herself.

Other than trauma she was fine, but Henry was loose with the gun going God knows where. She ran out of the house in search for Henry, she only knew one possible location. Helena took charge toward the Moor.

* * *

John and Sherlock themselves had made a huge progress. They finally discovered HOUND, Liberty and In. It was a chemical warfare project used in the 1980s but closed down. Someone was working on it again, causing whatever this actual Hound was to happen as well as what Henry was going through. It didn't fully explain it all, how the so called drugs were getting into them or what happened to Henry's father.

Sherlock checked his phone seeing no response of Helena, he was really thinking where she could be or if she was alright. Just then, John's phone rang, he didn't recognize the number but answered it. "Hello?"

All he got back was the sound of a woman crying, Sherlock looked over thinking for a split second it was Helena. But he knew her cry, this was a different woman crying.

"Who's this?" John asked.

"You've got to find Henry."

He turned to Sherlock finally realizing who it was. "It's Louise Mortimer." He told him, and spoke back into the phone. "Louise, what's wrong?"

"Henry was-was remembering… then he tried.."She gasps and gives out another soft sob but still spoke to get her plea out. "He's got a gun. He went for the gun and tried to…"

John's heart skipped, gun? He didn't even know Henry owned one. "What?" He walked over to Sherlock shocked by what was going on.

"He's gone, so is she!" She cried out.

"She- Helena?" Sherlock perked up at this, he completely forgot she was at his house. "She went after him?"

"You've got to stop him! I don't know what he might do. He might shoot…" Her voice went off, trying to hold back more sobs.

"Whe-where are you?" John asked, trying to figure this all out, he noticed Sherlock was tense; jaw clenched and now glaring at his phone dialing a number- Helena's number.

"His house. I'm okay, I'm okay." She assured sounding more calm getting this all out.

"Right, stay there. We'll get someone to you, okay?" John hung up knowing she was alright, but didn't know of Helena.

"Henry?" Sherlocked asked waiting for the call to connect on his phone.

"He's attacked her."

"Helena?"

"Gone after him, he's gone."

"Damn!" Sherlock spat out, Helena wasn't answering. "No doubt in pursuit of him. And he's armed. There's only one place he'll go to; back where it all started." He dialed another number gladly connecting to this one immediately. "Ledstrade. Get to the Hollow...Dewer's Hollow, now. And bring a gun."

* * *

At the said Hollow, Helena was out of breath blind in the pitch dark. She had her Mental Map, and her sight but only went so far with all this fog about. She was tempted many times to call out to Henry, but with a gun she didn't want to spook him and make him shoot her or himself. She was careful of where she was walking, feeling as if she was hunting a sensitive deer- well an armed one at that. Helena paused now and again to listen to any sound other than the bugs or wind, hopeful he was near.

Finally, she found herself a slope, one that lead down to the Hollow. But no one was there, was she wrong? Had he gone somewhere else? Helena turned about to leave until she heard heavy panting and branches cracking beneath a weight. Henry was here, she somehow beat him here. He stumbled into the Hollow, her heart sank seeing the gun still in his hand but glad he was alright. What was he doing, she wondered as he looking around.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, looking so helpless. "I'm so sorry, Dad." Henry crouched down, and much to Helena's dismay, found the gun going to point in his mouth. He was going to kill himself!

"Henry! No!"

"No, Henry, no! No!"

Henry jumped up, removing the gone hearing two voices either side of him. He scrambled back seeing John and Sherlock scurry down the slope to his right, and Helena jump from the low ledge to his left. Her two boys were thankfully she wasn't harmed, her focus solely on the broken man before them.

"Get back! Get-get away from me!" He screamed now pointing the loaded gun at the men, he swung it toward Helena's direction keeping her at a distance as well.

"Easy, Henry. Easy." John calmly told. "Just relax."

"I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!"

"You didn't know what you were doing, it's not your fault, Henry." Helena tried to tell gently, her hands trembling by her side but kept on her bravery for him.

"No, no, I know what I am!"

Sherlock tried, "Yes, I'm sure you do, Henry. It's all been explained to you, hadn't it?" John and Helena looked to him, hoping he was being as sincere as they were- acting or not. "Explained _very_ carefully."

Henry looked confused by his words, "What?"

"Someone needed to keep you quiet, needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you'd both clung on to, because you had started to remember." Sherlock managed to sneak a step or two closer to him. Helena did the same hoping to get close to get the gun off him.

"Remember now, Henry." Sherlock continued, "You've _got_ to remember what happened here when you were a little boy."

Henry's gun in hand starts to lower but only bounced back up. "I thought it had got my dad- the Hound." He told shaking his head. "I thought… Oh Je- Oh Jesus I don't- _I don't know anymore_!" He screamed in anguish hunching over to put the gun back into his mouth.

Helena cried out, "Henry, I'm _begging_ you! Oh please!" she couldn't relive someone dying in front of her, not again.

John stepped forward, reaching his arm out to him. "No, Henry! Henry, for God's sake!"

"Henry! Remember; "Liberty In"." Sherlock urged to him. "Two words, two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago." Henry paused his actions, listening to the desperate detective once again.

"You'd started to piece things together, remember what _really_ happened here that night. It wasn't an animal, was it, Henry?" Somehow, Sherlock's reasoning was working. Helena's now tear filled eyes shot between the two, her hands over her mouth seeing Henry straighten up, the muzzle of the fun far from him.

"It wasn't an animal, was it Henry?" He looked to him, shocked by his true words. "A _man_."

Sherlock Holmes was correct, it was all coming back to Henry Knight now; All of it! His father was not mangled and torn by a monster Hound. He was strangled- _strangled _ and beaten to death by a man in a mask. Bright red eyes and.. H.O.U.N.D. was what he saw on the man's shirt, with a said creature on it; The Hound.

"You couldn't cope." Sherlock told, as John moved slowly closer to Henry. "You were just a child, so you rationalised it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no one would believe a word that you said."

Finally, the John managed to coaxed the gun out of Henry's hand. "Okay, it's okay, mate." He told him gently.

Henry was trying to keep himself from hyperventilating when a heavy impact ran at his chest. John sighed with a grin seeing Helena hug Henry tightly. He noticed Sherlock's gaze, and bit his lip at the sight.

"Sherlock!" Called Lestrade finally having caught up with them, his own torch and gun in hand. He turned to the inspector as Henry put his shaky hands around Helena hugging back as she soothed soft scolding words to him. Just how she was.

Henry let go as she moved to the side hiding the fact she had tears trying to escape her eyes. "But we sat it; the Hound, last night. We s… we, we, we _did _we saw-"

Sherlock turned back with an answer. "Yes, but there _was_ a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses. But it was nothing for than an ordinary dog." He pointed to Helena's bandaged hand. "Helena wasn't scratched by a branch nor a beast, just a normal dog." Eyes went to her hand, as she covered it with her other.

"We three saw it- saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that's how it works." Henry couldn't really understand, but Sherlock gave a near what could be called a 'sympathetic' look to the man. "But there was never a monster."

Just as he stated that, a long low howl rang out for all five to hear. Everyone's eyes shot to the top of the Moor, John and Greg shone their torches as shadows danced upon the trees. Something was moving, snarling, and glaring.

"Sherlock…" Sherlock's torch followed as Henry started to panic.

"No! No, no, no, no!"

He backed up a Helena grabbed his arms to keep him in place as to not run off again, "Henry, stop!" She tried to call over his wailing, although her own hands trembled at the sight of the Hound once again as before. He fell to the ground crying over and over as Helena placed an arm around him crouching to keep him feel secure as possible.

The creature circled them as if they were a prey stuck in a hole."Shit!" A curse came from Lestrade, which made Helena's heart sank. The four of them possibly drugged was one thing, but Greg only got there today.

"Greg, are you seeing this?" John flashed his torch seeing the shock and terror in Greg's features. "Right! He is not drugged, Sherlock, so what's that. _What is it!?_"

Sherlock blinked rapidly trying to calm himself down and rattle his blank brain about to find an answer. "Alright!" He bellowed over the growling and barking. "It's still here.. But it's just a dog. Henry!" He called seeing him swallowed into the dirt and leaves by Helena's side. "It's nothing more than an ordinary dog!"

Another howl pierced their ears, and the beast started bounding down to reach their level. The torches shining more to reveal its horrid features of red bright eyes, molting skin, and long sharp teeth.

"Oh my _God_!" Lestrade stumbled back as it stepped slowly closer to the gang. "Oh, Christ!"

Sherlock heard something other than the wild growling, turning around he spotted a shadowed figure coming their way. A mask, the man was wearing a mask. He ran over and ripped it right off only to find the horror that was-

"No!"

Jim Moriarty.

Sherlock's face was full of terror and disturbance that was Moriarty. His face contorted before Sherlock's eyes as he kept hearing the horrible sounds of what could be mauling mixed with the Hound's snarling. He shook the man trying to make the image, face, all of it go away!

"It's not you!" He barked at the man. "_You're not here_!"

Helena looked hearing Sherlock's cries as he was grabbing a man by the jacket. "Sherlock!"

The man, demon, devil himself- he couldn't possibly be here! It couldn't be him! He near killed John and Helena and now he was back daring to grin like the lunatic that he was.

"No!" He spins him around near head butting the man, now seeing him as the true person that he was; Bob Frankland. His hand was clamped over his mouth and nose, that's when Sherlock finally realized. The mask, fog, what he saw, the dog's reaction and all how they were feeling.

"The fog." He concluded looking around seeing the fog was growing heavier.

"What?" John asked, still staring at the Hound.

"It's the fog!" The drug, it's in the fog! Aerosol dispersal, that's what it said in those records. Project HOUND, it's the fog! A chemical minefield!"

Greg quickly wrapped his arm over his face to stop inhaling anymore, although the chemical was doing the job well already. The creature's patience was thin, and gone. It was now within attacking distance as he barked savagely at them.

"For God's sake, kill it! Kill it!" Bob demanded as the beast was readying to jump one of them.

Greg fired only to miss making it flinch and more agitated to attack them. It was by John's keen and steady aim that the creature cried out in pain and fell back to the ground not moving. Everyone was stiff, waiting for it to get back up. When none was made, Sherlock roughly grabbed Henry pushing him to the Hound.

"Look at it, Henry." He told.

Helena followed keeping on Henry's other side, "Sherlock-"

"No, no, no!" Henry begged trying to get away as he got closer thanks to Sherlock's persistence.

"Come on, _look_ at it!"

The three got close enough, as Sherlock shined his torch revealing it to only be indeed an ordinary dog. Helena's hand covered her mouth, not believing the sight they found on this poor thing. It's own mind probably as messed up and confused as their own. Seeing the truth, Henry was both relieved.. And angry.

"It's just-" He turned to Bob only to show no longer fear but rage. "You bastard." He flung himself at the elder man screaming at him on the ground over him. "You _bastard!"_ John and Greg hurried over to get him off before possible hurting or killing Bob. "Twenty years!" Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn't you just kill me!?"

The two managed to pull him off and separate the two at a good distance. Helena made no move, she felt just as much anger in her as Henry did. He caused this poor man to suffer and even took his father away, to hell with him, she thought.

"Because dead men get listened to." Sherlock told as he continued to explain. "He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet." He spat as he looked down at Bob still on the ground. "A chemical minefield; pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here."

"Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once." A chuckle ripped through as Sherlock extended his arms out with a full blown grin at this. "Oh, this case Henry! Thank you. It's been brilliant."

"Sherlock." He looked to John, who gave a scowl.

"What?"

"_Timing_."

"...Not good?" He asked not realizing the trauma Henry was enduring.. Nor new anger building in another.

"Damn you.." Helena hissed glaring down at the man, Sherlock turned to her, he knew that look well. "You did all this to keep a stupid method of a chemical warfare in testing. Which has caused a man to not only lose his father but his mind as well!" Her hands clenched deeply at her side glaring down at the man as he got to his feet. "I oughta kill you for Henry, I don't mind getting my hand dirty."

Sherlock maneuvered to her placing an arm around her to stop getting close to him. "Helena-"

"No, no, it's- it's okay." Henry told more calmly taking even breaths. Though John and Greg stuck near him in case he attacked Frankland again. "It's fine, because this means.." He glared at the criminal. "My dad was _right_. He found something out, didn't he, and thats why you'd kill him. Because he was right, and he'd found you right in the middle of a experiment."

Helena's head shook, Sherlock kept a firm grip on her. "How about you die the same horrible way- I wouldn't mind if that Hound jumped back to life and mauled your entire _face _off!"

Just as she said that, the Hound did indeed come back snarling and barking. This cause John to let Henry go and fired at the dog two more times. Sherlock jumped back, pushing Helena behind him. During the fuss, she noticed Bob taking advantage and running up hill to get away. She gave full run after him, knowing she could catch him faster than the others. Sherlock looked seeing Helena chase after him, Henry behind her.

"Helena! Frankland!" He called out as John and Greg made sure that damned dog was dead for sure.

Soon the run was growing to be Helena only able to keep up close to Frankland. The four men behind kept calling out their names and telling one another to keep up and go faster. Despite some long legs, Helena's speed was no much with running, all her years and time running the streets of London. She passed trees and even jumped over some low tilted ones to keep within distance of Frankland. She planned to get close enough to tackle him to the ground. If lucky, she could pound a few into him before the guys caught up.

An open field was found as Frankland scrambled over something Helena didn't see, her eyes sighted on jumped at him. Whatever he climbed out slowed him down, giving Helena a chance to catch up with enough distance to tackle him. She jumped at him almost reaching him, but only to have something catch her foot pulling her back to the ground with a heavy thud. Bob kept on running for his life, Helena grounded and lifted her head to look back what had grabbed her. Wire- barbwire. She frowned, why would there be barbed wire in the middle of…

"Oh God.." She whipped back seeing Bob had stopped running looking down at his feet. Within seconds Helena's Mind Map reminded her that there was a minefield, not just the chemical one but a literal bomb filled meadow.

"Helena!" She heard Sherlock call seeing the lights dance about as the men grew closer.

Her eyes shot back seeing Frankland lookup, she knew what he was about to do. He was dangerously close to her, Helena sat up and desperately tried to unhook the tangled wire around her foot and ankle.

"Helena!" Sherlock called again.

Just as the four ran out of the wood, a huge explosion near shot them to the ground shocking them. They all duck from any flying dirt, depree, or even body parts as they all knew what had happened. Henry leaned against the tree, not knowing how to feel anymore tonight with his recent discovery. Although, Sherlock still looked frantic, that was Frankland who stepped on the mind, Helena was in deep hot pursuit… Where was she?

* * *

**Thank you 13, HzAeDuEsS, DarkWings112, murderyaface, ACatNamedToothless, Skylar-Daughter-of-Radiance, Millenia-the-wings-of-valmar, , ILovepenguins24, Dragonsheartsong, PanicAngel, for the follow and favorites!**

**Bored411- Wellll- yeah. No experiment for Helena, but she gets her own taste of things talking things out with Henry. And showing a want to kill- how often do we get a vicious Helena… Okay well. Anyway, thanks for sticking so long! ^^**


	37. Chapter 37

**Thank you for all your great patience everyone! Working so many hours, I tried to get as much writing between resting on day offs and time before and after work. And it doesn't help when I don't have the mood set. Recently a dog got hit by a car before my and my little sister's eyes so we had to recover from that endeavor. Wasn't any of our dogs! It was a neighbor's dog, he's alright thankfully. Shockingly got out unscathed, but I think I'll see animals hurt or killed in movies/shows differently now.**

* * *

"Helena!"

"Helena! Answer us!"

The four men kept calling out to her missing female companion, they lost track of her in the run. Then that blast occurred and… they hoped we wasn't too close to catching Franklin.

Sherlock blood pumped and heart pound against his chest, shooting his torch everywhere to find a hint of her body shape or shadow somewhere. So many things buzzed into and around his mind; was she possibly too close to that explosion? Was she stuck in the minefield unconscious? Possibly still in the woods lost somewhere? The number kept going up, and the more it did, the more Sherlock's anxiety went with it. The one thought he kept at bay the most, was she could be dead.

"_Helena_!"

In movies, it always seem to exaggerate about explosions; blurred vision, high pitched hearing- but all she felt as rising heat, pelted by dirt and smell of smoke that clouded above her. Arms tightly over head and body curled up in attempt to protect herself. Bob Franklin died, and to Helena he got away from his crime. Coughing at the smoke scented air, she slowly rose up, still tangled in the wire unable to get free from the explosion. Thank God she wasn't within fatel distance. Her dark eyes watched the smoke clouds lift up into the night sky, she doubted any remains were possible from that powerful blast.

Her eyes shifted down at herself to make sure she was still intact, no real scratches or damage on her but the cuts on her hands trying to get the wire off her foot. She would've gotten up to try and untangle again but who knows where another mine was. Her best bet was help.

"Hello!" She called out, looking over her shoulder to the woods where she last say the guys. "Sherlock! John!" She called out loud as she could. It seemed to work, Helena spotted flashing lights coming her way.

"Helena!" A voice called back, she knew it was Greg!

"Greg? Over here!" Helena shot her arms up waving about, the lights off his torch finally reached her blinding her momentarily.

"Sherlock!" Greg called behind him running to her. "I found her!"

Lestrade reached her and instantly got down to see the damaged of how tangled she was in the barbed wire. "Are you hurt at all?" He asked out of breath, scanning her body over with the light.

"I'm fine, just get me out of this." She told glaring her foot.

The three other men soon joined seeing she was indeed closer than they initially thought. "Oh, thank God…" John sighed with a hand over his heart, seeing her in one piece. Henry was exhausted enough but was glad to find her alive and well.

Sherlock sped right past them and knelt down to her, helping Greg free her of the wire. Sherlock was faster thanks to the protection of his gloves, compared to Lestrade's bare hands. As soon as she was free, Helena expected help getting up and to walk better over the fencing. Instead, Sherlock got back up to his feet, stepped over, and scooped her right up carrying her to the safe side of the fence. Helena wrapped her arms tightly around his neck keeping close not wanting to fall. The three watched Sherlock hold her just as close, his paced breathing into her auburn hair trying to even out as the color returned to his pale face. No one said anything, Sherlock lead them back. Carrying Helena the whole way, she never complained once.

John gave Henry some leverage to walk as Lestrade followed behind. Helena leaned her head against his shoulder, she could feel his heart beating hard against his chest. In turn, her own heart started to beat hiding her warm face into his coat.

* * *

The next morning, John and Helena sat outside to eat their breakfast before they were to make their leave back home to London. He was currently looking over her hands from the barbed wire scratches along with the wound that drug induced dog gave her.

"Nothing too bad," He assured, looking at the palms. "Will heal within the week."

Helena chuckled flexing her hands. "How is it I always get hurt the most out of these cases." She asked now showing him her dog scratch.

John smirked, tilting her hand for better angles. "Well, you do like to jump ahead and go straight into the danger. Just as bad as Sherlock." He let her hand go with a pat over the healing wound. "Yup, that's a scar alright. Just be sure to not scratch it as it heals."

"Yes, Doctor." She smiled as Billy came by with two plates of their breakfast.

John's smiled at food he ordered. "Mmm. Thanks, Billy." With no meat, the two would have to do. Helena was a big meat eater, so one of the things she missed was some nice sausages or eggs even.

As Billy walked back inside, Sherlock emerged with their three drinks. He places down two in front of them and sips his own standing by John. "So they didn't put it down then- the dog."

Helena mumbled a thanks sipping her coffee. "Suppose they just couldn't bring themselves to do it." John concluded.

"I see."

Helena swallowed and looked up to him. "No you don't."

"...No, I don't" He turned looking down at them "Sentiment?"

"Sentiment!" John confirmed.

"Oh." Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat down next to John.

He looked to him still eating his breakfast. "Listen, what happened to me in the lab?"

Helena looked up, glancing between the two. "Lab? You mean Baskerville?"

Sherlock was silent, almost thinking over what to say. He felt the two eyes on him, he looked to John's plate and turned away getting the container of sauce packets. "Want some sauce with that?" He offered avoiding the subject.

Helena dropped her utensils and kept her focus on Sherlock, knowing how he could be when avoiding a topic of discussion-or just guilt. "Sherlock." She called as if a child ready to be scolded.

"I mean, I hadn't been to the Hollow, so how come I heard those things in there? Fear and stimulus, you said." John added, putting Sherlock deeper under the bus.

Said man was pilfering through the packets as if trying to find one, only in reality he was keeping eye contact off. "You must have been dosed with it elsewhere, when you went to the lab, maybe. You saw those pipes; pretty ancient, leaky as a sieve and they were carrying the gas so…" He saw Helena's hand extend out, he picked up two packets offering it to her. "Ketchup, was it, or brown-"

She snatched the whole setup from him with a knowing grin. "Come on, Sherlock." She urged onto him.

"You thought it was in the sugar." John explained, only to earn a stare from Sherlock trying to keep his expression the same. "You were _convinced_ it was in the sugar."

He glanced to Helena for help, all she did was give a innocent smile not wanting to even lift a finger to help him. "I'd love to hear this explanation."

Sherlock was helpless. Last resort; he turned away and looked to his watch. "Better get going, actually. There's a train that leaves within half an hour," John turned away finally realizing what had actually happened in the lab. "So if you want-"

"Oh God. It was you."

Helena's frowned. "What?"

He pointed a thumb toward the man, "Sherlock; he locked me in that bloody lab."

Helena looked confused, glancing between the two. "Sherlock?"

"I _had_ to." He defended. "It was an experiment."

"An _experiment_!?"

Sherlock's eyes gazed at near by s, lowly shushing him. Just the same as John was trying to quiet him down the other night.

He kept his voice low but anger was still in his tone. "I was terrified, Sherlock. I was scared to death."

"What, did he lock you up with a dog or something?" Helena asked trying to figure it all out.

Sherlock looked to her. "I thought that the drug was in the sugar, so I put the sugar in his coffee." John sighed as Sherlock gave an apologetic look to him. "Then I arranged everything with Major Barrymore. It was all _totally _scientific, laboratory conditions- well, literally."

"Can I just get an explanation of what _exactly _happened?" Helena said looking between the two.

Sherlock sighed turning to her. "The lab where the animals were kept?" She nodded. "I had the doors sealed locking John inside. Shot some bright lights, loud alarm sounds. John soon got himself in a cage, as I played sounds of a dog snarling into the microphone for him to hear, thinking it was there with him."

Helena nodded chewing her lip in thought as John rubbed his forehead mixed with anger and disbelief- well, mostly anger.

"You do realize if you had done that to me, I'd have to knock all your teeth out, right?" Helena raised a challenging brow.

Sherlock grinned, "Exactly why I purposed you stay with Henry."

She perked at that, but looked down at her plate avoiding his caring gaze. He turned back to John, "Well, I knew what effect it had had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on average one."

John's head went up at those words, Sherlock sighed. "You know what I mean." He assured, letting him return to his meal.

"But it wasn't _in _the sugar." He said, Helena glanced up.

"No, well, I wasn't to know you'd already been exposed to the gas." He tried to excuse taking his cup for a sip.

"So you got it wrong."

"No."

She looked between the men; one gloating about the other being wrong, and said wrong man denying of it. She put her fork down and knotted her fingers under her chin- she enjoyed the spats between them.

"Mmm. You were wrong. It wasn't in the sugar. You got it _wrong_." Clearly John was making a valid point here to Sherlock- never use John as an experiment again.

"A bit." He half admitted. "Won't happen again." He sipped his coffee. Content with the argument resolved, Helena returned to her food.

"Any long-term effects?" John asked pausing his breakfast once more.

He shook his head. "None at all. You'll be fine once you've excreted it. We all will." Sherlock informed reassuringly.

"Think I might have taken care of that already." John jokes, Sherlock snorted a laughter and Helena let out a chuckle shaking her head.

Sherlock looks across the way, spotting Gary writing out two customer's orders. He gives an apologetic nod toward him. Sherlock got to his feet, getting John's attention. "Where're you going?" He asked, Helena glanced up.

"Won't be a minute. Gotta see a man about a dog." He smiled and walked off to have a talk to Gary. No doubt about an actual dog though.

John took another bite and glanced to Helena, whose eyes were locked onto the detective. "So," He starts clearing his throat. He tilted it about almost to scramble his brain to figure out what to say. "..Will you be alright on the train this time?"

Helena's eyes shifted toward him, then to her food. She instantly shoved it away, "Good point." She muttered looking around at the scenery for possibly the final time.

"I still got supplements to help, you can always sleep on the way there. That usually keeps the sickness at bay." He told taking his mug to drink his coffee.

"Hmm.." Her eyes went back to Sherlock now and then, who spoke with Gary.

"Do you plan to tell him?" He asked watching her.

She shrugged in response. "He clearly plans to cut me off on cases, yet he claims to love me?" She shook her head, looking to John. "What sense in telling him anything if so?"

John put his drink down, "He won't force you off cases. He can barely manage without you, should've seen him at the lab."

She perked at this, questionably. "What do you mean?"

"When it was proven the sugar had no drug traces, he was texting you repeatedly for help or answers. But you never replied to him. Driving him crazy, had to force me and Dr. Stapleton to leave to enter his Mind Palace." He explained thinking back on the memory.

Helena hummed in thought, looking away as she propped her chin in her palm and elbow on the table surface. "I was asleep, was still dead tired from the other night. Henry was having a panic attack when I left the inn, so I stayed up talking with him." She was silent for a moment, then dug into her pocket checking her texts on her phone.

John bit back a smile as she looked over the spammed messages he had sent over time, all during when she was asleep to when Henry had his freak out. "What would I say?" She asked in a whisper.

John himself didn't know the answer, or if she should even say anything. "Well, maybe you don't have to address anything to him."

Her hand fell to the table with a thud, her features show she was aggravated by that answer. "Clearly I _have _to, John. You know how Sherlock can be about feelings, let alone being honest."

John nodded, she was right. "Well, how do you feel?"

"Huh?"

"About Sherlock; do you fancy- I mean, _love_ him back?" he asked, putting his fork down. His main focus left his half empty plate and now to the struggling tramp.

"Well- I mean- I don't know." She groaned, moving her plate to lay her head onto the bench.

John frowned, "Don't know?"

She scratched at the wood, and shrugged. "...Do I feel the same for him? I'm probably worse with feelings than Sherlock himself."

John snorted at that, picking his fork back up. "I don't think that's possible."

She sat up, "Anything is possible. That includes Sherlock dealing with emotions better than I do."

* * *

"Ohh, he'll be angry for sure I know it.." Sweat produced above his brow, he quickly wiped it away to hide any sign of worry or alarm.

Currently waiting for the return of Mr. Moriarty, Trevor paced about. It seemed that Mr. Moriarty was being held in a cell thanks to the elder brother of that bastard detective, Mycroft Holmes. Free for a moment from the hell this man gave him, Trevor tried to stop his trembling nerves to and think of good things.

Hard to do so though- his mind couldn't keep track of anything but expecting pain or an ear full. He rubbed his arms, feeling the scars hidden under his sleeves. He crouched down, and sat against the wall of the small room he stayed in thanks to Moriarty. One would find it a kind gesture giving a homeless man a place to stay.

Trevor shuddered out a sigh, "If only they knew the truth… If only she knew." He instantly shook his head, gripping his thin dark locks. "No, no, no.. _No_!" Trevor buried his face into his knees, huddling them close to his chest.

"I'm dead."

* * *

"Home sweet home!" Cheered Helena as she ran out of the train station. Her smile beamed at what some would call a gloomy city, but to Helena, it was more of a sight to behold than she did in the countryside.

John and Sherlock followed after her at a slower walking pace, with suitcases they had to carry. Unlike her who traveled light. John smiled at her as Sherlock waved for a cab, he himself wanting to get back into the flat.

"Hope all was fine while we were gone." John pondered out loud waiting for a cab to stop for them.

"Please, John." Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. "England wouldn't fall for us being gone for a day or two."

John could've argued, but he wasn't wrong. He was sure Mrs. Hudson was fine on her own, Lestrade kept London safe, and Helena's brother was as safe as when they left. No texts or emails were made, and the city was standing the same as before. John looked from Sherlock to Helena… who was suddenly gone.

"Where-"

"Off to run across roofs and jump over buildings." Sherlock assured, finally able to get a cab as it pulled right in front of them. "She lasted longer than expected before darting off like that."

"She could at least leave a memo." John muttered putting the suitcases into the cab and climbing in after Sherlock.

Small young eyes watched the front door of 221b of Baker Street. She looked down to her little red ladybird with purple spots slap on wrist watch seeing the time read quarter past one. She kissed the little treasured watch looking up at the door again, as she hid herself dark in a tiny thin alley across the road. Suddenly, a cab approached the curb in front of the building and two men emerged from it. One was super tall, at least to the little girl; he had curly bouncy dark hair and wore a long dark coat with a blue scarf around his neck. She found the scarf to be a pretty color. The other man was shorter, well groomed blond hair in a jacket and casual dress shirt and jeans. The blond paid the cab as the tall man went to the door of 221b and walked ahead inside. The other man quickly turned and joined him inside shutting the door behind him.

In the flat, John instantly collapsed into his chair, while Sherlock got to unpacking his suitcase in his room. Mrs. Hudson was heard coming up the stairs, and entering with a smile and her usual 'Yoo, hoo!' added to a knock on the open door.

"Oh, I thought I heard you boys!" She beamed seeing the top of John's head against the chair, she came around with handful of envelops.

John tiredly smiled back, but it disappeared seeing the mail that piled up during their leave. "Missed you during our leave, Mrs. H." He stood taking the mail, and kissing her on the cheek sweetly.

"Oh, I can tell Sherlock is in his room, but where's Helena?" She asked, looking around the room. "She came back with you boys, right?"

"Oh yea," He nodded filing through the pile making out what was important and what wasn't. "She just needed a bit of city air after taking all that clear air." Which wasn't a lie, she probably needed to think over the sided ordeal with her and Sherlock.

He found bill after bills, and some spam letters and other trash. One caught caught his attention; the envelop was the smallest of the others, and the address was written with crayon in a surprisingly neat manner. 'To: Sherlock Homes'. Obviously written by a child, now Sherlock had gotten emails from children and come straight to the door over small stuff. But a letter, that was a bit new.

"Oh, that letter arrived just this morning." Said Mrs. Hudson.

John looked all over the front, then flipped to the back. "No return address?"

Mrs. H looked over from fixing up the pillows on the couch, clearly she fixed up the mess Sherlock made before they left when he searched for the cigarettes. "Not at all, didn't come with the rest of the mail. Was by itself wedged in the letter box."

Curious, John put the other letters down and got to opening this one.

* * *

Helena had her fill of seeing her beloved London from the rooftops, and was currently making her way back to Baker Street to visit Sher- Mrs. Hudson!

…

For sure, it was to see how Mrs. Hudson was doing during their leave. Not… not see Sherlock at all. He's probably shooting the wall to bits or burning body parts in complete utter boredom. Driving John insane over the fact he can't just relax after a case for a day or two.

Stopping a top of the apartment buildings across the flat, she scanned to see any sign of Sherlock and John already at the flat. But her sights went from the windows toward the front door. Helena frowned, was she seeing what she thought was seeing!?

* * *

"Don't bother opening it John." He looked up seeing Sherlock wander through the kitchen toward John taking the letter from him.

"Wha- Sherlock, what if it's a possible case?" John asked reaching for it, only for Sherlock to turn away blocking him from taking it.

"If anything it's just an orphan wanting to have her parents found. Same ones, every time." Sherlock waved off, physically waving the said letter about.

"Orphan?" John was astounded. "How the _bloody _hell can you even tell?"

"Ohh, the poor dear." Cooed the landlady.

Sherlock turned away toward the fireplace amused and annoyed at the same time. "Oh, don't try to pity the child, Mrs. Hudson."

John was getting aggravated, crossing his arms glaring at the back of his flatmate's head. "Why shouldn't she? The child is probably scared just wanting to know something about his or her parents. Wouldn't any child?"

All Sherlock really heard was 'wouldn't any child waste his time?' Answer; yes. John kept forgetting Sherlock had no sentiment toward these things, he didn't like children and preferred they stay away from him as far as possible.

"Give me one solid good reason why she shouldn't open that letter, Sherlock." John demanded, as he turned to give the answer.

"Because she can tell us what she needs, in person."

Three heads turned toward the opened doorway, Helena stood there gripping the collar of the coat worn by a guilty looking little girl who kept her eyes on the floor boards below. Her wavy, thin, dark brown hair hung around her around face, dark blue eyes glanced up at the adults.

* * *

**Thank you supergirlpixie, I'm nobody-suspicious, P. Bruiser, prettylittlehead22, Liz10s, Dark Conspiracy, Goddess of Leo, oicheanam, northstar1970, northstar1970, for the follow and favorites!**

**bored411- Thanks so much! Yes, using as much free time between breaks and days off to write these up. **

**The Wolf and The Rose- Wow! Thanks so much I am so super honored reading that! Kept grinning during work! Haha!**

**Prettylittlehead22- Ahh, let's see if I can keep up for this month! Had to really brain storm wanted this out soon as possible! Thanks for your patience!**

**Goddess of Leo- Right? I feel Helena (or Lena, cute name X3) is probably my best and favorite OC ever made. My number one baby!**


	38. Chapter 38

**Seemed my hours of the first week of September were cut, so I was able to get time to write ahead of time! But less money, so egh. But, enjoy!  
**

* * *

"To be fair," She spoke, holding a finger up and pointed towards the letter. "I'm not some scared pitiful girl wanting my parents found!" She barked in her little high pitched voice, the girl crossed her arms and pouted looking away. "What do I look like, little Annie? Next you'll be expecting me to sing about perfect parents or something."

The three investigators; Helena, Sherlock, and John sat in their respective seats -though Helena sat at the dining table by the window- listening to the little girl go on and on, avoiding the issue at hand. She sat there wearing sneakers with robin blue leggings, two-fer dress with the top dark blue denim and ruffled pink dress bottom with a zip up jacket of pale red. Her clothing were not anyting of new, hand-me-downs. Some tore and damage showed little care went to her clothing, as her jacket was filthy as well.

Sherlock was just twirling the letter in his hands, gazing at the girl. John watched the girl send continues glares toward Sherlock more than any of the three. He glanced between the two making sure he wasn't sending any back. Helena chewed her thumb, herself struggling to get this kid to cave.

"You're not in trouble or anything, sweetie-"

Her eyes darted to Helena, "Call me that again and I'll just stay silent during this whole interrogation."

The tramp indeed shut her lips, not expecting this girl to have such a quick tongue. John cleared his throat, "Listen, this isn't really an interrogation."

Dark blue eyes pierced at him. "You force me to sit here, while you all judge and demand answer from me. You don't call that an interrogation?"

John was now silent, not knowing how to respond to that. Sherlock turned away snorting a laughter off at her quick mouth.

Mrs. Hudson had returned from downstairs with a tray of snacks, placing them on the coffee table for the kid. She eyed them and her frown deepened. "Bribery now? Psh," She scoffed turning away pouting, though she still took a biscuit from a bowl and started nibbling on it. Mrs. H chuckled and left for the three to talk to her.

"Okay," Helena sighed. "How about we start with names- each of us." She offered, motioning to them all. "You obviously know Sherlock's name, since you wrote the letter to him." She said, pointing her thumb toward the tall thin man, then her index finger toward John. "This is, Doctor John Watson." Then to herself, "And I'm-"

"Hawkeye, or Helena Shaw, _obviously_." The little girl said in the most immodest tone ever to come from a child.

Helena's jaw hung by this, John was in near match with equal shock. Sherlock's brow was high, pondering how the girl could know this knowledge. It wasn't like every fellow reader on John's blog or random bystander knew this secret. It wasn't a huge deal, but it was to them for Helena's family to stay protected.

John tried to find his voice, as she girl still nibbled onto the biscuits. Bowl sat in her lap, ignoring the crumbs she was leaving on the cushions. "Okay, well doesn't it seem a bit unfair that you know our names, but we don't know your's?"

The girl swallowed, reaching for the cup of milk and chugging it down. Completely ignoring them in the subject. Sherlock rolled his eyes with a loud annoyed sigh. Helena reached back, giving a look. "Just read the damn-ahem, dang letter." She hissed at him, trying to hide her curse for the girl.

"I'm a kid, not stupid. Or deaf." She stated placing the empty cup on the tray and going back to her bowl.

"Let's add ill-mannered to that list." Sherlock added opening the envelope. He took out a folded paper and read it to himself, but seemed to find it difficult. He handed it to Helena, who took it and grinned. It was written in red crayon and everything was spelled correctly, she just guessed he refused to read it being as childish as the said child.

" 'Dear Sherlock Holmes, if you are reading this, then you are smarter than I give you credit for-'" Helena snorted out a laugh, and covered her mouth. Now she sees why he refused to read, any further that is. She cleared her throat, and continued seeing John biting back a grin. " 'You probably think this is just some poorly written letter asking you to find a kitty or lost toy. Well, It's not. I need you to investigate my home, the Littleview Orphanage. Kids have been kidna-' Kidnapped!?"

The girl nodded, putting the bowl on the tray finding this worth her attention. "It's true. The caregivers say that they were simply adopted."

John leaned forward, "Maybe it's true that they were adopted. What makes you think different?"

The girl gave a sour look to John's disagreement. "Because when they talk to the so called _parents _they act… different."

Sherlock frowned, "Different?"

"Before we continue, can we please have your name?" Helena brought back, standing up and walking over to sit next to the girl. She smiled down at the little dark haired smart mouth. "We'll gladly hear you, but we can't if we don't know our client."

She girl looked down, her cheeks flushing as she mumbled something. Helena leaned forward to hear, the girl raised her voice. "I don't have a name…" Her and John's eyes went wide, at her age and no name? "A birth name at least." She tried to cover seeing their reactions. "They call me Dally back at the home."

John cleared his throat, "That's a cute name." He complimented.

"It's a dumb name." She hissed at him, and crossed her arms looking to Sherlock. "Now you know my name, will you take my case? For all I know, more kids are being taken while I'm gone."

Sherlock stood, buttoning his blazer and walked over toward her with his hands behind his back. "In what different way do the children act? Who are the parents that adopt these kids? Do the adoptions happen often?"

The girl gulped, not trying to feel intimidated by his tall stature and cold stare. She subconsciously moved closer to Helena, and looked down as she answered avoiding his eyes. "They act weird, too happy or something. Some kids I knew didn't want to be adopted, but then after meeting the parents.. They changed."

"_Details_." Sherlock urged for.

"Sherlock.." Helena scolded turning the girl to her. "Dally, did they ever mention anything before leaving?"

She nodded, "Yes. They all say the same thing before leaving. How they'd be living the dream. I ask some what the dream is, but they never answer. I ask anything, but they just talk about living the dream, I don't know what _dream _they're talking about." Her hands clenched her skirt ruffled tightly.

"Do you ever see the parents?" John asked, getting up to get a notebook to write this down.

Dally shook her head, looking up. "No. For some reason, Miss Galken changed the method of adoption about a few months ago. She had it set up for the families to see all the kids in the playrooms to see how we are. Then they talk with the kid she might want, and whoever they pick, they adopt."

"How was it changed?" He asked writing down fast as he could to get all she said, she was a speed talker.

"They just call a kid in, and they're gone for an hour at most. Then come back, get their things and leave. They almost look as dazed as those drug people outside the home." John glanced to Helena and Sherlock, he shrugged.

"How often are the children adopted?" Sherlock asked, as it was the last question of his list.

The girl looked away, trying to hide the fact she was counting on her finger. Sherlock rolled his eyes, about to sigh but noticed the glare Helena sent him. He refrained and waited, she turned back and said, "Almost twice every other day. We had a large amount of kids, and toddlers live with us. But it's lowering, to just a few kids."

Sherlock then knelt down on the side of the couch. "And the age groups that the kids are adopted?"

Dally felt nervous under his stare, but gulped and answered. "Between six and ten."

It was then Sherlock jumped to his feet, and announced. "I'll take the case."

Dally jumped to her feet, almost as if to copy how he did it. "Really, Sherlock Holmes!?" Her eyes large and sparkled with delight at his answer. Helena then noticed, this could be the true personality of this orphan, the other being a facade. A good facade.

"Of course, it's something to start after returning home, right John? Helena?" He asked folding the paper and getting his coat and scarf while pocketing the paper.

John and Helena glanced to each other, but nodded. John gave a sigh getting to his feet. He honestly wanted time to write the recent case, but maybe this would be a short one. But then again, Sherlock only took cases that were deeply important, nothing boring or dull.

Helena stood and got her leather jacket on as did John with his own coat. Sherlock turned to Helena, "Littleveiw Orphanage, recognize the name?" He asked, she shook her head.

Dally answered for him, shoving the snacks on the tray into her pockets. "It's located on Stourcliffe Street." John knelt down to her, asking to thank Mrs. Hudson for the food on the way out.

Helena hummed in thought, then looked to him. "That's not too far at all. Thirty minute walk, ten minute drive." Sherlock nodded, turning ready to leave. Helena grabbed his arm, he turned back toward her questioningly. "If she's telling the truth, Sherlock. Does this mean, these kids really are being abducted? And if so, what for?"

He can see the worry in her eyes, she had a huge soft spot for orphans. No family, no one to turn to- she knew what that was like. Sherlock's stare softened into a caring gaze, placing his hand over her's gently. "We'll figure out why, if it's true." He let her hand go as soon as John stood ready to go himself.

Helena shoved her hands into her jacket, biting her lip wanting her warm cheeks to go back to it's usual color. Was he taking this case more for her then his own?

* * *

"Oh! Dally! Thank goodness you're safe!" Cried a woman of her late forties as she coddled little Dally close to her.

The woman had curly red hair, more bouncy and poofy than Sherlock's own dark curls. She was thin as bones, wearing a long dress that clung to her body. One would say she ate very little, but Sherlock could tell she was just naturally bone thin.

Helena looked around, the building was of old brick and barely looked like an orphanage of this day in age. Looked more like a prison. The windows had a metal screening over them, from the first floor all the way up to the third floor above. Helena wouldn't trust her weight let alone Dally's to climb this ancient place. The front doors were of metal, and there was only a single sign that said,

'Littleview Orphanage

Home for children and infants'

Helena frowned, looking up the streets. How could anyone be coming constantly without knowing this building even exist. She herself only knew from her Mind Map and taking back ways a lot to avoid traffic. John looked over the building himself, spotting a camera pointing at them not moving.

"Of course, Miss Galken." She said dryly patting the lady's arm, begging for release.

"Thank you for returning her, Mr. Holmes." She smiled to Sherlock, still holding the girl close.

Helena spoke up, "Well-"

Sherlock cut her off, "Of course, a little girl wandering the streets on her own. Seems she lost her way."

John looked to the little girl who seemed to still be trying to get out of the woman's hold. Sherlock's fake charm might have worked, as Miss Galken nudged Dally toward the open door, who just stood there refusing to leave. Galken swaggered past Helena and John looking Sherlock up and down, the Tramp watched closely.

"Oh, such a caring man toward the helpless children." She toyed with the lapel of his coat, but he kept a charming smile on. It was obvious she was trying to flirt with him, but if _The Woman_ can't break him than what made anyone think this desperate woman could.

"It's such an honor to meet the famous Sherlock Holmes." She cooed.

"So then you read the stories on John's blog, right?" Helen asked, finding the answer to how Dally knew of him.

Dally came up from the doorway. "I read them on my own! He came on a serious case." Clearly wanting Galken out if this conversation.

She let Sherlock go, much to his pleasure stepping to stand with his companions. Galken placed a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Sweetie, did you bother this busy man over that _imaginary_ case you made up?" She asked.

Dally shook her head, "It's a real case Miss Galken! We need Sherlock Holmes to save-"

"Now, now Dally dear." She tutted leading her to the doorway. "Go on ahead inside and let the other kids know you're okay." Before Dally could say anything else, the door shut.

John and Helena looked to each other worriedly, as Galken was still there with them. John cleared his throat, wanting a word in. "Dally came to us, saying there was kids getting abducted. Is this true, Miss Galken?" He asked, taking a notepad and pen out.

She turned to the man and shook her head. "It's all for attention, I assure. You see, Dally has been here since she was an infant. She was left with a letter that her parents would come back to her when able to." She sighed, features full of sympathy as she wrapped her arms around herself. "But as you can see, they haven't returned. Just as almost every kid left here are promised to be taken back."

"Where did she learn about Sherlock and how to fine Baker Street?" Helena asked crossing her arms, looking over the building. "That's highly impressive for a girl her age… How old is she?"

"Seven." They looked to Sherlock, hands shoved into his coat pockets looking to them. "Dally has an older friend who reads the stories from John's blog to her, more or less printed out as I doubt there's any computers or tablets given to orphans. Especially at this poor establishment. She reads the blog from printed paper, Dally had some papers cut about in her pocket. Her friend is not part of this place, she lives with her family nearby and visits Dally every other day with stories from John's blog. Dally found her way to our flat by using locations in the stories and finding her way from here up a few streets She left the building by picking the locks to the doors here, doors are aged to it was easy for a girl her age to unlock. She's been gone for over three hours, though you failed to report this to the authorities. Why? You may wonder," He inquired to John and Helena. "Miss Galken here was too focus in other things. Her makeup is rushed, by the smear of her eye liner and used three different type of lipstick figuring out which was best, none do justice as a heads up. It wasn't until over twenty minutes ago did she take notice of the missing girl."

Miss Galken was awe stricken by his long but fast explanation, John and Helena stood by waiting for the reaction she would have over his words. She took in a breath, stepped in front of Sherlock, and threw herself against him with arms wrapped around his thin figure. The sound of sobbing could be heard, as the two were shocked by this action. Sherlock himself didn't expect this, looking to the two for help to unhitch her off of him.

"Ohh, I am a horrible caregiver. But, believe me I was truly worry, Sherlock!" She cried, looking up, gripping his coat for 'support'.

Sherlock managed to get her off of him, wiping off whatever possible make up stains made on his coat. "I highly doubt that." He dismissed.

Helena frowned at the woman, stepping between her and Sherlock. "Isn't it a it suspicious that it took you a long while to notice Dally was gone?" She pointed at the camera above pointed at them. "You clearly have a camera watching the front, unless-"

"It's broken."

"Yup. That's what I thought." She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"But you don't understand. Dally is hard to keep track of alone. She's rambunctious, unpredictable- I've tried hiring more caregivers, but none will want anything to do with her. I wonder if she even wants to be adopted." Galken tried to explain, rubbing her wrinkled stress filled forehead.

Helena tried to push away any guilt feeling. "How many children do you take care of?"

"Oh, it used to be over thirty, most of the kids were older and helped out. But they were adopted in the recent past weeks." She shrugged with a sigh. A frown came upon her face, "It's now just Dally, a few kids, and the toddlers. I get help now and then with offered work, but her friend Maggie is the best help."

"When was the last time Maggie came by?" John asked, arms folded behind his back.

"About a week ago," She placed a hand to her cheek shaking her head. "I think this is a way for Dally to cope."

Sherlock sighed loudly, gaining their attention. Helena gave a look, seeing he was growing impatient. "So, um, nothing serious is happening here? I mean, we're not accusing you of anything. But a little girl claiming kids are being kidnapped, is kind of a big deal."

Galken laughed it off, waving her hand as if shooing a fly. "No, no. I promise, nothing bad. Kids are just getting adopted and I don't think Dally can handle it. If it makes you feel better, you can come inside and see."

"No. If all is fine, then we'll make our leave." Sherlock stated turning to leave. "Come along." He called to his two companions. John hesitated, giving a nod to Galken and following behind.

But Helena didn't move. "I'll catch up with you guys later." She called back to them.

Sherlock kept walking, John smiled a bye to her and kept with Sherlock. Helena turned back to Galken and asked, "May I come inside? I'd like to see how Dally lives here."

Miss G nodded and lead her inside. It wasn't as bad inside, the walls were clean as was the floor. There was a lot of rooms for large number of kids, but most were now just empty with unoccupied beds. Passing by one room, there was a cute playroom where the toddlers were. One woman smiled playing with the toddlers, counting Helena found only four. Two boys were playing together, while a girl sat in the carer's lap reading a book to her. The third boy was building blocks content alone.

Up on the second floor, there was still a few kids around Dally's age playing with toys, drawing in coloring books. But she couldn't find Dally anywhere, "Um, where is Dally?"

"Oh, she usually doesn't play with anyone but Maggie. She can be found by herself in her room." Galken explained, pointing to an open room across the active one.

Helena walked over peeking into the room seeing the little dark haired Dally. She was on her bed, books around her. But they weren't open, they just sat closed piled about. The seven year old sat there staring at them, Helena can hear a sniffle now and then. Oh man, she was crying. All by her lonesome.

Taking in a breath, Helena knocked on the door frame. "Hey, Dally." Her shoulders and arms moved about, her hands shot to her face to wipe any sign of crying. "Can I, uh, can I come in?"

Dally nodded her head, hair bobbing up and down. Helena entered the room, and came by sitting on the bed with her. "Got quite a collection of books here." She told picking one up titled, 'Jane Eyre', this was actually a romance unlike the other books that were mystery novels. Helena grinned, leaning forward. "Hmm, this seems to be a bit different from the others."

Dally looked up, and gasped. She too the book and hid it under her thin pillow instantly, cheeks ablaze. "I-It was an accident! I thought it was a crime book!"

Helena chuckled, "There's nothing wrong with romance novels. In fact, I think I saw this same book in Sherlock's shelf."

Dally's puffy red eyes glared at Helena, trying to put on a tough face. "...He doesn't believe, does he?" Helena's eyes softened at her when asked that. "I'm not lying or making it up. Miss Galken always thinks I'm doing stuff for attention, that I'm a bad kid." She looked away crossing her arms tightly.

The Tramp scooted closer to the girl, "I don't think you're a bad kid."

"You don't even know me." She argued.

Helena thought about Sherlock's deduction and what Galken informed them about Dally. "I know I see myself in you."

Dally looked up at those words, "..How?"

She smiled down at her and scooted right next to her, folding her hands in her lap. "Well, if you know much about the Hawkeye in John's stories, then you'd know the Helena Shaw, right?"

"..I didn't read the stories myself.." She admitted feeling sheepish, Helena knew but let her go on. "My friend Maggie reads me them, she knew who you were because.. She's really smart I guess." Dally shrugged. "She visits me every other day, reading me stories from Mr. Watson's website. Whenever she had none, Maggie would bring books to read. She let me keep them, but I haven't seen her in a while."

"Did she write that letter you sent to Sherlock?" Helena asked, looking through the books. Some were ones she knew Sherlock had owned or she herself read.

"Yea," Dally huddled her knees up hiding her face to her nose. "I don't know how to read or write.."

Helena put a hand on her shoulder, Dally glanced up at her gentle smile. "There's no shame in that, Dally. Heck, I myself don't know much about certain educations myself. Took me a while to get used to my own phone, sad huh?" She chuckled.

Dally raised her head, "But aren't you an adult? I thought they all knew about phones and computers."

"Hmm, some do, but my case is different. Y'know why I mentioned the difference between Hawkeye and Helena?" Dally shook her head. "Well, you see. The real story of Helena is, I've been homeless since I was a near teenager. I had a conflict with my family and left living on my own in the streets. It was a hard life, but I adapted and had help, in turn I gave help to those who needed it."

"Wait, you don't live at 221b?" She asked, putting her legs down and leaning forward with interest.

Helena thought on that question, pausing in her answer. She stayed there at times, but never actually lived there. Only for about a few days for cases then back to the streets. "Um, no not really. That flat is more of Sherlock and John's place. I just go and visit, I stay for cases at times."

Suddenly Dally's eyes sparkled, "Are there any new cases that you did with them?" Helena chuckled as she shook her arm. "Are there? Are there any? Please, please tell me?" She begged, showing her true childish ways.

Helena laughed and sat her back down, "How about we make a deal, Dally?"

"A deal?"

"Mm-Mmm, I'll tell you a case we had just returned from solving if you keep this whole thing here a secret from Galken and keep us updated on what's going on."

Dally stood on her bed, and a whole new definition of excitement was given to Helena seeing the expression on this girl's face. "Yes! Yes! I promise! Thank you!" She cried jumping up and down on her bed, causing some books to fall off.

Helena laughed and took her by the shoulders to settle her down. "I'll come visit you everyday around lunch, okay? But, I'll tell you the beginning of ummm, what is it he's gonna call it..?"

"What's it about?" Dally asked, sitting on her legs, still bouncing lightly with eagerness.

"Well, it's about a hound haunting a place called Baskerville." She told her, leaned back in the bed.

The little girl tapped her chin, then she beamed. "The Hounds of Baskerville!" She said, mistakenly adding an 's'.

"Hey, that's a great title, Dally! I'll be sure to tell John to give it that title." Helena reached over and ruffled her dark hair, Dally giggled at the affection. "So, it all started on a cool clear day, John and I sat around and I asked him if he was a dog or cat person. Suddenly, Sherlock entered covered in…Um, how find are you with violence, Dally?"

"Maggie read to me about this one crime story that a man had his fingers cut off as a-"

"Okay, okay, I'll try to make this the best I can." She assured, trying to not give the girl possible ideas, nightmares, or say something to Miss Galken to keep her visits out. "Anyway, Sherlock was being a real pain in the a-"

* * *

'_-Behind. Henry, a normal-looking bloke in his late 20s, was clearly very anxious when he arrived at Baker Street. He told us about how-'_

"Henry was a 'normal looking bloke'?" Came over John's shoulder as the obviously bored Sherlock read what was on the laptop screen. "Really, John, you should become a professional author!" He praised sarcastically leaving John to return to his typing.

Though the man paused and watched Sherlock go back into the kitchen where he was inspecting the letter Dally sent to him. In the cab, he claimed that it'd be put on hold, but it seemed he couldn't even last two minutes to just do a thing called _relax_.

Helena hadn't returned or texted the two since they brought Dally back to the home. It seemed whenever this was the case, it drove Sherlock up a wall to do something. John was now able to read how Sherlock would react with Helena being gone. If they had an argument and was ignoring him, he would deduce anything that he could find or watch trash telly. When she was out on her own after a case with no contact, he would start experiments or go on John's blog to rudely comment on what he wrote. The worst had to be the argument he had with Sherlock in the comment section in his The Woman post, which included a whole conversation between the two and Mrs. Hudson.

Helena never commented, but probably didn't even own a blog as she was never on a laptop- or owned one at that. John pondered if she knew much with the internet, being homeless for so long. He remembered she needed some help with her phone but she adapted fast.

Pausing to continue typing, John got up stretching his arms and walked into the kitchen to pour some tea. He was glad to be back at the flat.

* * *

"It was all dark, our torches were shining everywhere! I was above the moor, while Henry and Sherlock were down below…" Helena started lowly, as she stood in the middle of the room looking around reenacting the scene. Dally sat at the edge of the bed, eyes wide fully immersed. "Suddenly! A howl _screeched _into the night!" The girl jumped back, but still smiled at the short scare.

"Was it the hound?" Dally asked in a whisper.

Helena grinned at her, and turned around, "It was- I turned and there right in front of me was the demon Hound!" Dally gasped covering her mouth. "It swung a paw full of sharp long claws at me, I fell back into the moor! Thankfully, Sherlock caught me."

"Did it scratch you?" Dally asked bouncing once more.

Helena nodded, kneeling down and revealed her hand with the still healing scars from the dog. "I got the scars to prove it."

"Wow! Did it scare you?"

Helena would say yes, but kids want adults to be brave, right? So, she stood with a scoff, "Of course not. We were shocked though, that such a beast existed! We saw the hound itself. With glowing red eyes and long sharp teeth!"

"What happened next!?"

Helena smiled and stood, "You'll have to find out tomorrow." She checked the time on her phone, "I should get back with John and Sherlock."

"Aww, okay." She accepted a bit dejectedly, "You really will come back right?"

Helena patted her head, smiling brightly at her, "Promise is a promise. But, before I leave, mind telling me about a few things with this case?" She nodded, as Helena knelt back down. "So, how did you get Maggie to write the letter."

"I didn't trick her or anything, she thinks the same thing is happening. It was her idea to go to Sherlock." Dally explained, playing with the ends of her skirt.

Helena didn't expect this. "Really? Did she tell you to go to him alone?"

"No, we were suppose to go together. Maggie is twelve and knows her way around more than I do, she even drew directions. But.. She hasn't come around lately. I think her parents grounded her or something." Dally thought sadly, she really missed her friend.

Helena put a hand on her back, she looked up at the woman. "Hey, that was pretty brave to go alone, Dally. I'm glad it wasn't far for your safety." Dally blushed by the praise, a sudden thought came to Helena. "By the way, how did you learn to pick locks?"

"Maggie taught me."

"Ah, sounds right." She chuckled.

"Maggie is really really smart, she has a book to learn lock picking. She wants to be like Sherlock Holmes and be a detective too!" Dally got to her feet and went into her dresser drawer. Helena's hand shot to her mouth, unable to hide the reaction to what she was now wearing on her head.

"You have the hat!" She stated in a near high pitch tone.

"Yup!" Although it was poorly handmade, the dedication was strong in it. It was cut and folded by paper colored in crayon of many shades of blue. "Maggie has her's at her home. She helped me make this. When we grow up, we're gonna be detectives and solve cases like Sherlock and Mr. Watson!" She said proudly with hands on her hips.

"I can't even say in proper words how cute this is." Helena mumbled to herself and got her phone. "Can I take a picture of you in it?" Dally took the hat off at this, "What's wrong?"

"...No one will make of it, right?" She asked, turning the hat about carefully in her hands.

Helena frowned, "Now why would anyone-"

"Hey, look! Dilly Dally has the stupid hat again!" Yelled a boy pointing from the hallway. Two other kids laughed and ran off down the stairs. Helena now understood why, she looked back to Dally who was hiding the hat again.

"They're just jealous." Helena said standing up and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Dally looked up in question. "Why would they be?" She asked, her lip out with a pout.

"For many things- you're cute hair, pretty eyes, great friend outside the home. But most of all-" Helena took the hat from her and placed it on her head. Dally looked up just as Helena took the photo, and showed it on her phone screen. "-because you're unique."

Dally's brows knotted with confusion. "What does, 'unique' mean?"

"It means you're different, just like we are; John, me, and Sherlock. Anyone who shows how different they are, are the best kind of people."

Dally's eyes welled up, cheeks heated up in a blush, she suddenly clung onto her waist in a hug. Helena smiled and wraps her hands around the small girl. Dally wasn't some rude boisterous girl that Galken claims her to be. She just needed someone to trust, and a friend.

Helena made her leave, promising to return the next day to continue her tale for Dally. As she made her way to the main street, she texted John.

**Hey**

**By any chance did you get**

**A title for the case?**

**-Hawk**

She took a nice cruising walk up the street. Her phone vibrated in her hand, looking down she found John's response.

**No**

**And halfway through writing**

**Where have you been?**

**-JW**

**Talking with Dally**

**She's a real sweetheart,**

**once you get to know her**

**She thought of a title for it.**

**-Hawk**

The response was shorter this time.

**Oh? What is it?**

**-JW**

**The Hounds of Baskerville**

**I told her some of it,**

**She's really excited to hear more**

**=)**

**-Hawk**

**That's a good title! I'll be sure to**

**Send her a credit for it.**

**Be careful what you tell her,**

**she is young after all, Helena.**

**-JW**

Helena chuckled and texted back as she stopped by a small pastry shop. Her stomach growled, she didn't eat much of her meal at the inn that morning before getting on the train, so she was starving. Going inside, she glanced between the display glass and her phone texting back.

**Don't worry,**

**she doesn't seem affected**

**Bringing back some pastry,**

**Sherlock or you want anything?**

**-Hawk**

Helena looked over the counter as a worker came up. "Hi! I'll take a dozen cream puffs, chocolate mousse filling, please?" He nodded and started picking up the tongs and a box to place the treats in. John's response came,

**Sherlock said nothing for him**

**But get him something anyway**

**Any kind of tart is fine by me**

**-JW**

She looked back up, "I'll also have hmm… lemon meringue tarts- four of those. And...er…" Did Sherlock even like any sweets? The best she saw was him adding sugar to his tea, that was it. Though he did like eating pies that Mrs. Hudson made. She smiled and pointed at the display, "And a small helping of the apple crumb pie please?"

Once she add all she needed, she paid for the treats and left with the small box, she decided to take a cab back. Helena honestly didn't trust herself nor did she have the patience to gently walk all the way back. She gave the driver the address, and the car was off. Sitting with it the box in her lap, she felt her phone vibrate. Did Sherlock change his mind on the dessert, she pondered.

No, it wasn't Sherlock or John who had texted her. Helena's smile and entire mood dropped, her skin felt clammy gripping the phone tightly. Her eyes stared at the words.

**Missed you, Birdie.**

**Did you miss me?**

**-Jim**

* * *

**Thank you wheelieandblur, for the follow and favorites!**

**Bored411- If you ever do, that is. You know how I can be. Haha! I got only two days work so I was able to get this chapter done much faster!**

**Goddess of Leo- Wow, never thought of it that way. Hmm, makes sense though. AWW! Really think so? Thanks so much, I research super hard and try to keep to it. It can be a bit of a mix as well to the game series I follow or from the original books. So I tend to mix it up, but try to keep it as far from OOC as possible.**


	39. Chapter 39

**For the first few weeks I had long hours but less days, growing back to more days but shorter hours. Tried my best with this chapter, so tired with work so bare with me until November when things calm down. Once October arrives I might have to wait until Halloween passes. It's a shame, cause I really want this done so I can go back, rewrite and get the 'grammar nazi's' off my back. Enjoy!**

* * *

John was looking forward to some sweet pastry, as he made some fresh tea for Helena. Sherlock was now on his laptop typing things away and scrolling about on sites. As John was pouring the hot tea into the mug, he heard a mumble.

"Extra milk."

John shook his head amusedly as he put the kettle down and moved to the fridge to get the milk. "Talked to her about that thing?" John asked as he poured some milk, paused, then poured a little bit more.

"By '_thing'_, that could literally mean any_thing._" Was all Sherlock responded with.

He stirred the cup and turned to him. "You still planning to take her away from cases?"

Sherlock paused in his typing, staring in thought. "I honestly hoped you'd forgotten." He told standing up to take his cup and refill.

John stepped aside, as Sherlock poured the hot tea in his cup. He thought on the trip, remembering it all of course. Including the fact Sherlock admitted he loved Helena… in his own unique wording. Just as Sherlock took a sip of his tea, John repeated the quote while putting the milk back. " 'Love is a human error, Helena is my error'."

Sherlock paused his drinking, giving a look over the rim of his cup. John raised his brows expectantly at him, "You said that, word for word." The brooding man walked back to his spot at the kitchen table, placing the cup down and continued typing.

Guilt riddled in John's stomach, he didn't mean to push this on him. Sherlock was possibly nervous about expressing such a feeling to Helena. Now that John remembered, he talked to her as well and she was just as troubled. Maybe, it was time he backed off and let the two handle it. He knew Sherlock deeply cared for Helena and he was happy for him admitting it. Helena herself, was questionable. It worried John, not wanting his friends hurt.

Deciding to change the subject, he looked to his wrist watch. "Shouldn't Helena be here by now?" He asked walking past Sherlock to retake his seat.

The front door shut with a slam, John looked toward the stairs. "Oh, she must have walked."

"Cab." Sherlock told, losing a tab and going to another and continued typing.

John nodded, deciding not to ask the usual 'how do you know', it was growing to be a waste of breath. The footsteps weren't rushed, only well paced. He still held Helena's mug, he walked out of the kitchen to the stairway to greet her.

Sherlock was barely paying attention but kept his ears open. "Hey, Helena. Got those…" John's voice trailed off, as she made her way up. "You alright?"

Fingers froze over the keyboard, his head tilted to the side listening in for her voice. "What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just got caught in a daze, I guess."

Daze, Helena focused hard on things. Daze wasn't a good sign.

"You sure?" John asked as he followed Helena into the living room where she placed the dented dirty box onto the coffee table. "Look at your skin, you're pale."

Helena laughed it off, opening the box. "Oh, I guess it's this city air giving me the chills. Is there any warm tea?" She asked, tightly folding her arms around herself.

Sherlock now looked toward the living room as much as possible without having to get out of his seat. Listening was fine, for now.

John looked down at the cup in his hand. "Right! Right, had this freshly made. This should do." He handed her the mug, "Sherlock made sure the milk was there."

Helena chuckled, holding it close to her. "Thanks, John. Er, help yourself. The box fell out of the cab when getting out, so some got a bit messy."

"You mean you dropped them from your unsteady hands." The two looked over seeing Sherlock now standing in the living room.

Helena bit her lip and turned away looking inside; A few cream puffs survived the fall, only one of John's tarts fell out and Sherlock's small apple crumb pie stayed intact. "I got you some lemon meringue tarts, John. If they aren't good, you can have my creampuffs."

"There isn't much though." He noted getting a tart out as he counted the puffs.

"I ate them on the way here." She excused.

"Dropped them onto the pavement." Sherlock corrected.

A bit of a tenseness was growing with Helena and the two men. John kept looking between the two, why was Sherlock stating these? Simple; Helena was lying, she looked down at her mug and sighed. "I'll get some napkins for us, shall I?"

Helena rushed toward the kitchen passed Sherlock. He walked in after her, shutting the sliding doors to keep her from escaping. Good thing his bedroom door was open, only way out he'd have to physically block would be the stairway.

"I know John said you didn't want anything," She said looking for napkins as she held the small crumb pie for Sherlock in its own little box. "but I know you like the pies Mrs. Hudson made. I saw the crumb pie, and thought you'd like to try it."

Sherlock watched her move about hastily, her hand carrying the said pie was struggling to keep a steady hold. He walked over to her in a evenly manner as she kept her back to him. Raising his hand, Sherlock reached out to touch her arm, the second contact was made Helena gasped jumping back from him. He shot his arm back, as the pie fell to the floor with a thunk and splat. Helena tucked her arms against her, eyes filled with fear as she stared at Sherlock hyperventilating. Something was seriously wrong, what was causing Helena to be so scared?

Her eyes shifted down at the food, she chuckled weakly and knelt down with the napkins to clean it up. "I'm sorry Sherlock, I'm really jumpy lately. I might still be spooked from the recent case." She excused, Sherlock knelt down watching her trembling hands attempt to get anything off the floor.

He couldn't watch any further- Sherlock took her hand, Helena went silent as he kept a firm but gentle grip on it. With his other hand, he pressed his palm against her cheek lifting her face to look at him. Her eyes tried to avoid his stare, but she finally met eye to eye. Helena expected a hard glare like gaze, but instead she was met with a soft… worried look. Brows knotted and frown dipped, he tried to find any answer in her as to why she was acting like this.

"...Sherlock-"

"Did someone hurt you?" He quickly asked, voice low as usual but above a near whisper. "You're trembling to the point of loss of balance and heart rate is pulsating faster than any small alarm should cause you. Did something happen?"

This was her chance; tell him about the texts Moriarty has sent, including that last one. What kind of fear he puts in her, that no one else ever had the power of doing. Why? Why was this one man able to put so much apprehension, that she wasn't able to function?

Her hand shook more under his grip as she closed her eyes tightly. "I-I.."

"Helena, if someone is causing this to happen, I want to know." He told her calmly, his thumb slowly rubbing against her cheek.

She turned away from him, wanting this feeling and current situation to end. She felt trapped, between holding her hand in place and most doors shut, she was feeling enclosed by all this. Her breathing grew more, fingers curled tightly in a fist.

"Let go..Please.." She begged tugging her wrist back weakly of no avail.

Sherlock refused. "After you tell me what's caused you to be so frightened. I don't…" He sighed, his face grew closer as his voice near disappeared in his whispers. His throat tightened, struggling to speak. "Don't make me watch you endure this alone."

Helena stared at him, his words pleading her to tell him. Oh, she deeply wanted him to know, it was killing her since the bomb incident of how much she was terrified of Moriarty. Her lips dry and jaw up and down uncertain to admit it all. Her eyes water, as she turned her hand over holding it tightly. Sherlock felt the grip was strong, his hand on her cheek moved down to shoulder rubbing it with comfort.

"Please?"

She had to, this was the time. Who knew where he was or when his next move would be. 'Burn a heart out of you', his exact words.

Wait! Burn the heart-

Suddenly Helena yanked her arm back and got to her feet turning and running down the hall to Sherlock's room. He chased after her, she slammed the door open with her body weight and made it to the window. It was already open for her entrance, she dove right through.

"Helena! Wait!" He called after her, sticking his head out seeing her land on the pavement with a clumsy trumple.

She turned to him, almost hurt to do this to him. "I'm sorry.." Was all she said as she bolted off who knows where into the city of London, unable to see the look on Sherlock's face. The look of a man who was just denied of trust

Why did Jim Moriarty cause her absolute fright?

She didn't know Jim Moriarty.

That's why- Unlike Sherlock and John who has seen him, she never did. He could be anyone and anywhere, and that's what scared her. Sure, she handled a demon like Hound, but she was able to see it and knew where it resided. Helena has fought for her life on the streets from kid to adult, has even risked her life to protect those she cared for.

And that's what she had to do. If Sherlock knew what this was really doing, what he was doing to her, it's what Jim wants. Pain to Sherlock seeing pain in those he cared for, Sherlock claimed no sentiment in him but she knew with many examples proving it there. Helena was doing this to protect Sherlock, keep him safe from that mad man.

She was doing this, because Helena cared for him, he was deeply important to her.

Her feet soon stopped after running a few blocks, she stared down at the pavement unphased by the looks she was getting from bystanders. Eyes now felt wetness drop from them, leaving small dark dots on the ground below her. She raised her hands, they still shook, but… differently. Not has violent, her thoughts had shifted from fear of Jim to… her care for Sherlock.

Her heart suddenly pounded hard at her chest when thoughts of him grew; protecting, time spending. His laughter, his bravery, unknowingly rude comments, his… gentle consideration towards her. His love for her.

Helena was doing all this, because she loved Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

"Sherlock, what's happ-" John finally entered the kitchen finding Sherlock walk back in from his room. He took the cup that was filled with Helena's tea, his gaze looked distant. He looked around, Sherlock was the only one here. "Where's Helena?"

Sherlock took a sharp breath, "She had somewhere to go." He said, swirling the neglected tea.

John frowned, he walked around the table but then noticed the pie's disarray on the floor. With how Sherlock was acting and the pei's demise, something had happened. "Did you two fight?" He asked, though that would had to have been the most silent argument the two would ever have.

"No." He said blankly, and poured the tea into the sink.

John's brows lowered in confusion, "..Did something go wrong?"

Sherlock sighed, and swiftly turned with a napkin to clean the mess on the floor. "Something brought a start to Helena, she left before I could find out. For now," He stood tossing the crumpled treat into the trash can, and sat back down at the table in front of his laptop. "Enjoy your tart and write your blog."

The doctor tilted his head watching Sherlock make whatever just happen look like it was an everyday thing. He extended his hands out, asking, "W-What gave her such a scare? Is her brother okay?"

"I'm sure he is." He dismissed, hands folded in front of his lips just staring at the bright screen.

He tried guessing again. "Is she still bothered by the hound case?"

"She's well over that."

John licked his lips in thought, what else could it be? "Did _you_ do something?"

Sherlock closed his eyes clearly annoyed by the accusation. Heaving a sigh through his nostrils, he give a short glare to his flat mate and looked back to the screen. He was bothered when people blamed him for things, even if they were true. But when it came to Helena, only in arguments was he usually at fault. There was so sure arguement, she was truly startled by something.

What was it, Sherlock hoped it wasn't him that she was scared of.

* * *

"Dull Dally, go live in an ally."

"Dull Dally, go work in a gally."

"Dilly Dally, such a dull person."

Looking out the window trying to ignore that teasing and hurt comments on her name from the other kids, Dally was waiting for Helena to return. She had visited twice, two days passed. Though she told the little girl that she'd return to finish her Hound story. Dally pondered if Sherlock was taking this to a case or not, he did say he would but so far no action was taken. No adoptions have happened yet, so maybe it was a waiting game like the -Great- Game Case.

Dally hoped Maggie arrived today too, that way she can meet Helena for herself. She still had to tell her that she met Sherlock and Mr. Watson as well. She would be thrilled!

"What are you smiling for? Imagining your parents coming back for you?" Anthony taunted, a ten year old miscreant who bullied Dally constantly. Dally looked up, but Anthony sneered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to give you any hope of it happening." He laughed shoving her shoulder, moving her from the window.

Little Dally only glared at the bigger boy, "Even if my parents are dead, at least I know they didn't abandon me here like they did to _you_."

The kids gasped at that retort, anger grew in the boy, "Say that again to my face." he dared glaring her down.

Dally stood her ground, giving the same stare right back at him. "Your parents don't love you."

Anthony stomped over and shoved the small girl with such a force, she fell back onto the wooden floor. The kids stepped back, with no thought of backing her up. Dally got more angry, hands shaking wanting to do something. She took a nearby shoe and threw it at him, hitting him straight in the face.

"Oww! My nose! That hurt!" He cried covering his face as red drips fell between his fingers onto the floor.

He cried with tears and blood dripping down his face and staining his clothing, running out of the room. "MISS GALKEN!" Yelled one of the kids, the rest in shock that someone actually hurt Anthony.

Dally gulped, "...Uh oh.."

* * *

"So, John posted the new case today?" Curtis asked walking along with his elder sister down the street.

"Yea, the Hounds of Baskerville." Helena confirmed smiling to him as she lead him to her destination.

"I plan to give it a read after this." He told shoving his hands in his pockets.

She raised a brow, "I told you what happened."

"You're version sucked." He teased, she shoved his shoulder laughing at him.

His eyes shifted to her hand resting at her side, gently swinging back and forth as they walked. The scar was visible and Helena didn't try hard to hide it, it was a memory of a big case. Not the first scar she had after all. "Did you get a picture of it? I was hoping to see the beast too."

Helena chuckled, "You do know we only saw it in that vision because of the fog right?"

"Ohh, right." Curtis remembered, nodding. "No side effects from the drug, right?"

"Sherlock says nothing bad." She hummed in a thought. "But I think they raise anxiety and paranoia from how Henry was that night, Sherlock too."

"You too?" He asked, eyes finally up to her's.

"..I don't remember, I was up with Henry concerned with his own fears to feel any." In reality, she did. Helena believed hearing Sherlock tell John how he felt for her, caused paranoia to occur. The drugs in her just pushed that higher, causing her to run off. She could've just hid in the room, instead she ran miles down the road to sleep at Henry's home.

Helena started to wonder if she ran off too many times; with that and then the other day with that confrontation at the flat. Her head bowed down thinking lowly of herself, it was all for him or was she being selfish?

"Where are we going again?" Curtis' question brought her back, lifting her head to him. "You mentioned something about meeting someone?"

A smile graced her lips, "Yea, it's this little girl who asked for Sherlock's help." They turned down the road of the back buildings where the home was. "She believes the kids at the orphanage are being kidnapped."

Curtis froze in his steps. "Kidnapped?!" Helena looked back at him, he covered his mouth seeing the stares he got and jogged over to her. "I-Is it true? Are they really being taken?"

Helena shrugged with a sigh continuing. "She asked Sherlock to take the case, he claimed to have. But I haven't seen any action taken place, he could be just waiting for another to happen- Here we are."

Looking up, they found themselves at the Littleview home. Curtis looked around, the street was bare. How was anyone to know this place even existed? Helena rung the bell, after a few minutes Galken opened the door and smiled.

"Oh, Helena. Good to see you." Her eyes shifted about as if looking for a certain someone, but spotted Curtis instead. "Brought a friend?"

"I'm her-"

"Curtis, a friend of mine from a case we did." She informed, giving a glance to Curtis. A reminder that few people would know she had family. "Thought I'd bring him to meet Dally."

Galken sighed, folding her arms. "Well, Dally might have to miss your visit today."

Helena raised a brow, at this. "Is she alright?"

"Oh, yes. Just being punished for something she did." Galkan shook her head with a deep frown.

Curtis tilting his head, "She honestly sounded like a sweet girl to me. What did she do?" he asked joining the conversation.

Galkan rolled her eyes at the word 'sweet'. "She threw a shoe at a kid's face causing a nosebleed."

"Is the kid okay?" Curtis asked, Helena looked up the building looking at each window.

"His nose isn't broken, if that's what you mean."

Helena looked to the caretaker. "She doesn't seem to be a violent kid, were the other kids bullying her?"

"It is true she has issues with kids, but she needs to learn to ignore their teasing." She said, avoiding the question.

The siblings looked to each other, Curtis cleared his throat. "I don't think that's the right way of putting it." Galkan gave the teen a stern stare, he faltered. "Then again, w-w-what word do I have in this? Umm, Helena?" He asked backing off and handing to his sister.

"No, no, you're right Curtis. She was probably hurt by what they were saying. Do they tease, or should I say, bully her a lot?" Helena inquired, raising a challenging brow to the lady.

Galkan gave a look toward the Tramp. "I don't like your tone, missy."

She chuckled, "I apologize for it, but wasn't it you that said the world wasn't kind?" Curtis gulped watching his sister start something with this woman, eyes shifting left and right. "Sure, not word for word, but that's what you're insinuating."

"...I suggest you leave, both of you. After all, I don't think you're a good influence on Dally." She sent an accusing finger at her. "That's where she gets her violence from, those stories! I never liked Maggie bringing them in here, reading those horrid things to her. Now I don't need you adding more!"

"Ma'am, can't we at least-" Curtis tries to win her favor over.

"No! Now, please leave." She turned back inside slamming the door loudly in their face.

Curtis jumped at the clang, and looked to his sister. "What was that about?"

She shook her head, "Something doesn't feel right." Helena took her phone out going into her messages as she turned to leave. "I should contact Sherlock about this."

* * *

Out the window, Dally watched Helena and Curtis leave after conversing with Miss Galkan. She frowned deeply, glaring at her door. Running over she pressed her ear against it, and tried to open it. Locked! And she thought ahead of taking away the lock picking kit she used for the front door. A sigh escaped, first Maggie was gone and now so was Helena. Dally looked around her room, her books and stories now confiscated, all she had was her bed and desk at the window. All she could do now was climb up on her desk and look out the window- wait. She spotted two people walking up the the building. Looking down best she could, the couple entered the building. Dally rushed to her hair vent, to hear from down below.

"We're here to adopt a child." Said a man.

"Yes, a little boy." Said a woman.

Dally leaned in more, trying to hear more. "Someone tough and healthy I assure?" Why did that matter much, she pondered. "I know just the kid. Though he's had a bit of an accident. I'll see if he's doing better."

Dally gasped, she was talking about Anthony! The little girl rushed to the door trying her best to turn the knob in attempt to break the lock. But with her little hands and small strength, that was impossible. Sure, Anthony was a jerk, but she couldn't let anything else happen to the other kids. Her eyes wondered around the room, her only means of escape was the air vent. It was old, but big enough for her to fit. With as much strength as she had, Dally lifted the rusty grate up and quickly shuffled in the maze of the ventilation shaft.

The girl prayed not to be stuck or fall through it when the bottom dented at times. She didn't know where she was going, but tried to head downward best she could. Not bothered by the cobwebs that clung to her or the dead bugs all over, she quickly crawled through to whatever light she found. Though a lot lead to the rooms that were empty, she did find one that had the couple sitting in. The woman had long dark black hair wearing a red dress, the man was wearing a typical suit, wore glasses and had same color hair as the woman. Dally leaned back on her legs, the door opened with Anthony coming in. His nose was still plugged up with tissues, but it seemed the bleeding stopped.

"Hello, Anthony." Greeted the woman as he sat in a chair across from them. "Oh, what happened to your nose?" She asked, lifting his chin to see it.

Anthony pouted, "A stupid weird girl threw a shoe at me."

Dally glared the boy, the man tutted. "That's no way to talk about girls." He reached in taking something out of his pocket. "Does it still hurt?"

He nodded, "It's really sore." Anthony put on a 'pitty me' voice. Dally rolled her eyes, tempting to move on to get out of this cramped vent.

"I know a method to help that." The man offered, holding a coin out to the boy. He beamed at the money, but the man pulled back. "You must follow my method, I can magically make your nose better."

The boy scoffed, "Sure, you can."

The woman chuckled, just watch. If it doesn't, you can keep the coin." She told, patting his shoulder

Anthony was skeptical, but held a hand out holding the coin. "Just follow my words, Anthony; Hold the coin between your finger and thumb and keep holding it there, with your arm stretched out, whilst you listen to the sound of my voice."

Anthony did as instructed, the coin was he left between his index and thumb, arm stretched outward over the table.

"Now an interesting thing is going to happen. In a few moments you'll notice that arm becoming heavier and heavier whilst at the same time it begins to feel relaxed and comfortable."

The man's low voice was soothing, relaxing the nerves the kid had. His grip almost loosened, but noticed his arm was indeed weighing down to the table surface. Slowly, but surely. Dally leaned closer to the grate cover, would this actually work? No one could even calm him down, how were they able to do this?

"And as you notice the growing sensation of comfort within you, that arm gets heavier and the hand and the fingers begin to feel like lead weights. So _heavy_, so _comfortable_ and so _relaxed_-and as soon as that coin falls from your fingers and touches the table, you will go into a wonderful deep gentle rest."

Dally leaned her hand against the rigid grate. Unbeknownst to her the metal was groaning by her weight against it.

"And the arms and the hands and the fingers are getting so wonderfully heavy as you go deeper and deeper into-"

Without warning, Dally's weight pushing the grate off, making it crash and loudly clang to the hard ground. Everyone's eyes shot toward it, then up to its source seeing the little girl hanging out of the air duct opening. She scrambled up with a hand on the edge to pull herself back in, rushing over the opening. She heard the yells and calls for Miss Galken and a Little girl crawling through the ducts. Dally didn't know where she was going, but had to escape and web Sherlock about this. She now knew how they were tricking these kids; hypnotism.

Dally kept rushing down the vent, but then found a drop, she cried out for. Split second one as she crashed down against another grate, thought this one was weaker as it fell out the second she made contact with it. A second cry came out as she fell with it landing onto tile flooring, crashing face first. Scrabbling to her feet, Dally ran to the nearest door, that happen to be the front door. Her little heart pounded against her chest as she reached into her pockets getting the kit Miss Galkan failed to confiscate. She felt her fingers slip a bit as the stomping footsteps echoes on the floor above her. Soon, the lock clicked and Dally ran out of the building stumbling onto the road. Her chest hurt from the pounding of her heart and lungs begging to breath at a normal pace again. But she couldn't stop, she had to get help!

The little girl dashed out of the back roads, and into the main road looking left and right. She didn't have the map her friend made. How was she to find Baker Street? Looking up at the street signs, maybe she could figure these out herself. Going up a street, Dally started her journey to find Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

**Thank you xXallegedangelXx, ChibiSpyStuff, NadiixD, NearmyL, .7503314, for the follow and favorites!**

**Elliebelle4444- You can slow down on the spelling and grammar corrections. I type too fast and skim through best I can to correct things before posting. I plan to do a rewrite of any needed corrections. I got a heavy set job for Halloween and can't go back and correct everything while writing as well. So bare with any mistakes, I'm sure they are readable compared to something such as My Immortal.**

**Bored411- Right?! I do apologize for this chapter being short hours are getting heavy again, and struggling with this arc. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!**

**Prettylittlehead22- Remember what will be coming after this arc! THE FALL! So, we got a count down til this arc ends to prepare your hearts for it. Thanks!**


	40. Chapter 40

**HALLOWEEN IS OVER! FREEDOM!**

* * *

London was much bigger than Dally expected, she only got out once when following the instructions to Baker Street. Though her eyes were mostly locked with the paper and only looked upwards to read the street signs. Now with no directions, Dally kept looking all over the place trying to remember her way there. Some street names and numbers were familiar, but she hesitated not wanting to mistake it and go the wrong way. Maybe asking for help would work.

Nearby, she saw a small restaurant with some patrons. Maybe they knew where it was? Dally entered inside, and walked up to the host station. The man looked snobby, the way he held his nose up in the air and talked with a posh accent over the phone. Once he hung up, Dally knocked on the wood being too short to look over the podium. The man leered over, and gave the little girl a scowl.

"..Yes, little girl?"

"Umm, I just hoped you could helped me?" She asked as kind as possible, a bit nervous as she subconsciously touched her ladybug wrist watch.

He raised a brow at her, "Are you looking for your parents at this establishment?"

"..Er, no. I-"

"Then I suggest you leave, as you can see there are no children allowed here." With a snide remark, he pointed his pen over to the window where a sign indeed read, 'No Children'. "Now, go away." He shooed her off waving his hand and going back to the phone.

Dally wasn't going to give up, she pressed her hands up against the top to try and lean over. "Please, I just need to find Mr. Holmes."

The man looked back down at her, eyes opened with better attention. "Mr. Holmes?" He looked down reading the guest list of the day, "He is a guest here this afternoon."

Dally beamed, she guessed he was here investigating something. "Really!?"

He gave her a stern look, waving his pen at her in a lecturing manner. "Unless this is an emergency, Mr. Holmes shouldn't be disturbed of his lunch."

"But it is an emergency! Lives are at stake!"

The child was clearly alarmed, was it worth bothering Mr. Holmes over this child's delirium? But then again, how else could a child her age know who he was? "..Come this way. Let us pray he's not busy at the moment."

He walked into the dining room, where adults dressed in fancy expensive clothing. What she noticed the most was, everyone here were all men. Not one woman. Was this a men's only place, Dally never knew that was even possible. She should leave the home more often! Following the man around tables, men were giving looks toward the little girl or just ignoring her existence. Her eyes were wandering about the place, she near bumped into the host who stopped at a table.

"Mr. Holmes, someone has requested to see you." He said to the man, Dally's attention was set back to talk to him. "She claims it's an emergency."

"It is!" She defends, and walks around the host to see- "...You're not Mr. Holmes."

The host glared down at the girl, disgusted by her rude accusation. "Of course it is. This is Mycroft Holmes."

He's not the right Holmes! I need the other Mr. Holmes!"

Mycroft just stared at her, not the same way the host did. It was like he was examining her, not saying a word yet. "Keep your voice down." The host hissed lowly at her.

"You mean my brother, Sherlock Holmes."

Dally nodded, looking to the elder Holmes "Oh man.." She groaned smacking her forehead, but then she got an idea. "But you know him, and where he lives?"

"Most adults do." He retorted, but Dally countered it.

"Take me to his flat! I need to tell him something very, very important!" She told going to the table clutching the table cloth tightly. A shush could be heard from the host.

Mycroft looked at his wrist watch, "Well, if you can explain why I should in the ten seconds, I'll give you a ride there myself." He gave her a look, insinuating to start.

Dally took a deep gulp of air, and in all one breath began. "I first went to Mr. Sherlock after children at my children's home were being kidnapped. I only knew the way when my friend made a map, but I don't have it. I never had any proof to it, but when I explained how they acted different after meeting the 'parents' he said to have taken the case. It's almost been a week and he never returned, but Hawkeye came to visit me to tell me stories. Today, I threw a shoe at this jerk kid and I got in trouble. But some people came by to adopt him, and when I was going through our air vents, I saw they were using hyp-hypno-hypnosis on kids! I need to find Mr. Sherlock and tell him so he can put a stop to it before it's too late!"

She heaved a short sigh before regaining her breath at her fast paced explanation her small lungs tried best to keep at it. Mycroft kept his eyes at his watch, then he looked up as she had three seconds to spare. The host, stood by rolling his eyes at her fable story, and cleared his throat.

"If she is troubling your lunch, sir, I can escort her to the door." He suggested reaching for her shoulders.

"No." Mycroft dabbed a napkin at his lips and stood. "I'll take her to my brother."

Dally smiled brightly, running over hugging his waist. "Thank you! Thank you!"

Mycroft repressed an annoyed groan at the contact of the child, she soon let go eager to leave. He cleared his throat, and fixed his suit as he picked his umbrella from hanging on his chair. "Well, shall we make way?"

* * *

Curtis looked up from his plate for the fourth time noticing his sister wasn't touching her meal. Currently, the two were out for lunch after the failed visit to Dally. Helena had texted John, but he hadn't responded. For some reason, she didn't just text Sherlock, her mood grew dim whenever Curtis mentioned him. He was concerned, Helena wasn't one to hide her emotions well. He thought maybe a fight between the two, but she'd be complaining up a storm and huffing about if so. Helena poked her food and nibbled a few times, eyes wandering out the window of the cafe they were at.

"Nothing from John?" He asked sipping his orange soda.

Helena shook her head, sitting up more. Her mind was elsewhere. "He's probably being dragged about somewhere by Sherlock."

"Maybe we should head to Baker Street in case he's there, or wait for them to return if need be." He suggested.

"..I'll just wait for his response." She disregarded, putting her fork down, and gently pushing the plate away from herself.

Curtis sent a worried look. "Is something going on, Helena? Whenever Sherlock is mentioned you sort of daze off- and not in a good way." She raised a brow at him, but sighed in defeat.

"I'm keeping my distance for his safety, that's all."

"Safety? Is he okay?" He asked, pausing to take another bite of his food. Curtis was of course concerned for anyone else safety, but after that incident on the roof and getting kidnapped, he worried for his own as well. "Is someone after him?"

Helena nodded, "In a way, isn't someone always after him?" He didn't answer, Helena struggled thinking how to explain. "..Moriarty wants to see Sherlock suffer, which means all who he cares or will be targeted. So, I'm distancing myself for his sake."

Curtis tilted his head, frowned and looked up. "...The same you did for me?"

Her eyes shot to him, she frowned deeper and looked away. "This is different, Curtis. Moriarty wants to see him in pain."

"But John is someone he cares about, and he's keeping close to him as a friend." He argued, leaning his arms on the table.

"This is different." She countered, now scowling at the window.

"Different how?"

"Different because he loves me!"

Attention at the cafe was caught around the siblings, Helena's face warmed and she turned away crossing her arms. Curtis looked around and moved his chair closer to his sister. He chewed his lip, thinking what to say to that outburst without anymore from her. She was clearly troubled by this fact, be it Sherlock's danger or that he loved her.

"Er, so he loves you, umm…" He coughed and tapped his fingers on the table surface. Curtis felt nothing coming to mind, he didn't know what to say to comfort his sister. "Helena-"

Just then, her phone went off. Helena sighed, fishing it out from her jacket pocket reading the caller. A confused frown was shown, but she answered. "Mycroft, what do want?"

Curtis was surprised, Sherlock's brother calling? Last he knew, she hasn't spoke to him in a long while.

"Thought I'd let my brother know he has a guest here at 221b." He spoke as sarcastically charming as usual.

Her brows knotted. "Then why don't you tell- he's not answering his phone is he?"

"Excellent deduction, Miss Shaw."

"Lucky guess." She rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Should I 'deduce' who the guest is?"

"A little girl with a large vocabulary." He said with indignation.

Helena at first couldn't think of anyone, until she thought of the only little girl she knew. She looked to Curtis in shock, "Dally!? What's she doing there?"

"She claims that there is an emergency she must inform my brother on. Hypnotism and kidnapping, know anything?" He asked, not really caring over the matter himself.

"Hypnotism? I-In a way, yeah." Curtis started searching his pockets for his wallet to pay for the meal. "Now, Mycroft, you didn't just leave her on the front step like a package, right?"

A sigh could be heard from the other line, "Of course not, I left her with Mrs. Hudson about a half hour ago. Sherlock wasn't there, and I wasn't going to stay there for long. I have other business to attend to."

"Hm, sure." She muttered seeing her brother put some money on the table and getting to his feet. "Listen, I'll head there now. I just need to walk my brother home first, just text Sherlock that Dally is at the flat."

"Is he not with you?" Helena stood not planning to answer. "..Oh, cross with him, are we?"

As the siblings left the cafe, she hurried down the street with Curtis following behind. "Could say that." She dismissed. "Just text him, no matter how many times. Text John if need be, he's always with him. But, thanks for letting me know, Mycroft."

She hung up and paused looking to Curtis who was wheezing through his mouth trying to keep up with her. "Sorry, Curtis. I'll have to cut short of today."

"No.. trouble, sis… Whew!" He hunched over catching his breath, then lifted his head standing straight. "I'll walk back home myself, don't worry."

"You sure?" she asked, feeling guilty to cut their day like this.

"From what you told me, there's a possibly serious case going on with that little girl. Give me a heads up if you need anything though." Curtis gave an assuring hug, patting her shoulders and made his leave back home.

Helena sighed and turned making her way to Baker Street. The fact Dally left the orphanage again made her concern if this was all really happening. What was it Mycroft said, hypnotism? That is something different for sure, she pondered if Sherlock would actually investigate further now with that put in.

Speaking of Sherlock, he had to be informed of her arrival as well Helena took her phone out typing a text out.

**Mycroft informed me that**  
**Dally is at the flat currently.**

She paused and added,

**Before you get your knickers in a twist,**  
**he isn't there.**  
**-Hawk**

Then pressed send, her eyes fell upon the contact labeled as 'unknown number'. She knew the person, turning her screen off she pocketed her phone refusing to let herself reread those damn texts. Her focus right now landed on Dally and whatever she meant by 'hypnotism'.

* * *

"So you think the cousin's girlfriend's brother did it?" Lestrade asked frowning at Sherlock in the morgue. "If so, why and.. How?"

Sherlock sighed loudly- louder than he usually did whenever someone didn't understand his deductions. John, standing beside him, noted he was more irritated than usual. "Because-"

Raised a hand pausing Sherlock, he could see feel the tense anger in the man just standing the opposite with the body separating them. "I'll get it in writing."

John watched Sherlock roll his eyes as Molly zipped the body up ready to place him where Sherlock got her to fish him out. She could tell he was more annoyed than he usually is, everyone could.

"Thanks for sorting this out, then, Sherlock." Lestrade said as the three made their way out. "Though I'm surprised Helena didn't come along, is she busy?"

Sherlock didn't say a thing, his body language of his head looking away and walking speeding up left him a bit muddled. John walked up next to Lestrade, "..Did I say something wrong?" He asked the doctor.

John grimaced, tilting his head to the side. "No, nothing you said. Just, something going on between him and Helena."

"Another spat? Seems it's all they do, like an old couple." He teased, knowing Sherlock could hear them only a good few feet away. He continued wanting to distance himself further.

"Not exactly." John leaned closer to whisper to Lestrade, "Helena seemed bothered by something, and just ran out of the flat. Sherlock's a bit… offended I think."

Lestrade frowned at him, glancing to Sherlock. Said detective took out his phone reading a text, he replied quickly.

**Take care of it  
-SH**

"No point in whispering between one another." Sherlock told the two looking to them, a thought came to his mind. "You two have a better chance of getting whatever is bothering out of her than I do, apparently."

"There's no way she's still troubled from the hound case, right?" Lestrade pondered, crossing his arms in thought.

Sherlock shook his head, "She admitted that being the problem, but it wouldn't cause her to react this way." He dismissed.

"Then, what could it be?" John questioned looking between the two. "Helena hides things a lot from us, not wanting to seem scared or fragile to us. She does know she can come to us for anything by now, right?"

Sherlock looked back to his phone reading the response.

**You took the case,**  
**You take care of it.**  
**She was going on about**  
**hypnosis.**  
**-Hawk**

"I hope she knows this." Greg added.

"John, back to the flat."

The two looked back to Sherlock as she opened the double door, waiting for John to follow. "Something happen?" He asked.

"The girl is at the flat, must return to our case. Remember?" He walked right out, John nodded to Greg and went after.

* * *

"Hypnotism, Dally?" Helena asked, as the little girl sat on the couch. The two currently waiting for Sherlock and John to arrive shortly. "Maybe they were just, I don't know, getting to know the kid. What was his name?"

"Anthony; he's a bully, but he still doesn't deserve to be kidnapped!" She argued getting off the couch and going to look out the window. "Where is he? Didn't you tell him to come?"

Helena lead her from the window, "Calm down, Dally. Yes, I did." She took her back to the couch this time sitting with her.

The second Helena had arrived to the flat, Dally instantly clung to her from waiting at the steps. Thankfully, Mrs. Hudson was there as Mycroft said, but the landlady seemed unable to keep up with the fast talking, intelligent little girl. The first thing that came out of Dally's mouth was mixed up rubbish about another kid taken, and how she ran off.

"Did you get a look at the people talking to Anthony? Like, hair or facial features?" Helena asked, to help calm down the girl and get some early information so Sherlock doesn't interrogate her.

Dally kicked her feet against the front of the couch. "I didn't see their face, but they had really dark, black hair. The lady had super long hair, and wore a red dress. The man at first wore a hat, and also had those suits, like what Mr. Mycroft wore- Oh! And glasses!"

Helena patted her back, "Good job, Dally." She praised her. "When Sherlock arrives, I'll tell him everything you've told me."

Just as she finished her sentence, the sound a footsteps ascending up the stairs caught their ears. Dally jumped off the couch cheering, "He's here! He's here!" as it got closer. Helena stood and moved the eager girl away for John and Sherlock to get in.

John entered first, giving Dally a smile and kind hello. Sherlock appeared behind him.

"What took you so long?" Helena asked looking to Sherlock.

"Yeah, what took you so long?" Dally repeated beside her.

"Traffic." Sherlock answered shortly passing by the ladies to take his coat off.

John did the same turning some lights on finding darkness setting in sooner than expected. "So, what's this about hypnotism and another kidnapping?" He asked, using the term 'kidnapping' very lightly.

Dally's mouth opened, ready to repeat everything she's told Helena to the men. But said woman covered her mouth, shaking her head at her.

"Remember what I said, Dally?"

The girl nodded, and sat back down. Helena motioned the two men toward the kitchen. Once inside, she shut the doors and heaved a sigh.

"Dally told me, another kid may be have been taken. His name is Ant-"

"I need the story to be told from the witness herself, Helena. You know this." Sherlock told her moving toward the sliding doors.

Helena instantly blocked him, "I've seen you talk to children, Sherlock. You're not the best person to do it, you know this." She countered back. Sherlock rolled his eyes and stepped back, hands shoved into his pockets.

"Continue."

"Anyway- The boy's name is Anthony, Dally was locked in her room after hurting the kid who was bullying her. She saw two people, a couple, enter the building." Helena explained.

John's brows furrowed, "How did she know he was kidnapped, if locked in the room?"

Helena was about to answer, but glanced to Sherlock and crossed her arms seeing a gleam in his eyes. He raised his brows at her, but she motioned with her hand to him. "She crawled through the air vents of the building." John looked over to him, about to ask how he knew. Always ahead of him, Sherlock went into a full explanation.

"Dally had dust and dirt on her outfit, along with some traces of cobweb in her hair. Her pants are a tad worn out and torn by her knees, showing she was crawling carelessly through the metal vents. Her fingers; She was rubbing them as she sat down, I saw some red marks and bandages, she cut herself when she almost fell through one of the openings. Most likely when she was listening in on the meeting between the two adults and the boy."

The two waited for Sherlock to finish, with no other word from the man Helena nodded to confirm this. "Exactly that." She said, unfazed by his deduction skills. Sherlock expected a bit more, he glanced to John who without doubt was still amazed at this skill.

"Where does this hypnosis come into play, then?" He asked, looking between the two.

"Just as Sherlock said, when Dally stopped at a vent grate watching the couple and Anthony." She told him, leaning back against the doors lightly.

"What did they perform?"

Helena frowned, pressing her thumb to her chin. "Dally had some trouble explaining it. She said, he held a coin out and the heavier the coin got, the more tired the kid became."

Sherlock scoffed, gaining their attention. John knew what was to come, "Something you'd like to share, Sherlock?" He asked, folding his arms behind his back.

"Hypnotism doesn't work, it's a trick of the mind."

"Like how magic is all smoke and mirrors?" Helen asked to get the concept.

Sherlock nodded, "Exactly the same. The more you mention of one being tired, the brain starts to believe it, and in turn makes you think you want to sleep. Same effect when watching a cooking show, seeing people talk about food and seeing it made long enough makes you hungry."

Helena hummed in thought, "Makes sense. But still, isn't it a bit strange that you'd use hypnosis on a child you plan to adopt?"

"I agree." John said, "Why would you even need to? Make the child like you of some sort?"

"Or something different." Sherlock considered the possibilities. "But first, we should do something about Dally."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, a little girl age of seven runs away from a child care facility, surely a report of her missing will be made within-" Sherlock glanced to his wrist watch, then back up. "Two hours."

John looked down at his own watch, it was currently half passed three. "So around supper time."

"The way the caretaker showed her concern over the last time she ran off, proved she won't be giving out a missing child report anytime soon. Not to mention, she was locked in the bedroom last she saw her, so will probably assume she is still in there. Or forget she even locked her in there to begin with." Sherlock explained walked passed Helena to the slide doors to the living room. "First things first, we need to-"

"Sherlock! You have a visitor!" Called Mrs. Hudson from down the stairs. "She told me she's from an orphanage."

The three looked to each other, all thinking the same thing. "We have to hide Dally." Was the first thing Helena said.

"What happened to two hours?" John questioned towards Sherlock.

"Unless she was seen, then now would be an appropriate time to search for her." Sherlock seemed to forget to add, or not find it important- who knew.

Helena shot out of the kitchen and scooping up a panicked Dally off the couch. No doubt heard the call from down below. "I'm going to be in so much trouble!" She exclaimed, but Helena shushed her gently.

"Just go hide upstairs, in John's room." She told putting her down in front of the upper stairway.

"No," Sherlock and John came out, "She'll hear the small patter of footsteps and know she's here instantly."

Speaking of steps, the sound of heavy ones started rising up the stairs to the flat currently. Dally chewed her nails nervously, whimpering at Helena's waist. "Then where do we hide her, Sherlock?" Helena whispered harshly. "She is a key witness to all of this. We can't let her go, if they know she saw her-"

"You think I don't know this?" Sherlock argued at her, not liking her tone when she gets tense like this. "If the caretaker is indeed involved, it proves more that she can not go back."

"Then what do we do?"

The lady was at least halfway up, Sherlock scanned his flat; somewhere within the same room where she can't be seen, but nearby so she won't be heard moving too much. Sherlock found no location in the current room, under the table she'd be seen, and no place hiding behind the chairs would do if Dally became restless. Helena sighed, and rook Dally by the shoulders, just as she lead the little girl into the kitchen, narrowly missing the sight of Miss Galken who passed the other kitchen entrance and into the living room. The two men, stayed in place as the woman held a concern yet clearly tempered look on her features.

"Why, Miss Galken. What do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" Sherlock asked, walking across the room to his chair where his violin rested.

"I feel you do know, Mr. Holmes. Dally has ran away- again. Did she flee here with her spouting nonsense of imagination?" She questioned, starting her search by the couch then toward the table.

"Dally ran off again?" John asked following her as he tried to take a peek toward the kitchen, he looked straight back to the woman as her eyes shot to him. "We-We haven't seen her, Ma'am. Did you make a report to the police?"

While John kept her attention, Sherlock glanced to the kitchen finding Helena...making tea? His eyes scanned the room for any sign of where she could be hiding. In one of the lower cupboards, maybe made a dash to his room- he hoped not. It's one thing letting the homeless tramp that was Helena into his room, a little smart mouthed touchy child is another thing entirely.

"Of course not- at least not yet." She quickly added, "I wanted to make sure she was here instead of making a fuss with Scotland Yard. Do you know how many time I've had to call them, all over her behavior and breaking out attempts?"

"I can only imagine." John muttered to himself, as she continued looking around behind Sherlock's chair. He made no intention of moving, as he tuned and cleaned his instrument with care, and little care towards the woman's problem.

"You sure she isn't hiding somewhere? Maybe she's hiding her?" She accused looking down at the detective.

"By 'she', do you mean my assistant, Helena?" He asked raising a brow at her.

"Yes, that woman." Miss Galken hissed, and turned to search in the kitchen that was now empty. Where has Helena hidden off to? "She came by my building today lecturing me about treating the children with better care. She has no children, probably shouldn't living on the streets like an animal. What does she know about children?"

John looked to Sherlock who tightly plucked the strings to his violin. He wanted to defend Helena at these accusations, but would Sherlock beat him to it. He knew how much he despised people talking low of those he cared for. John was just as annoyed, but kept his temper better compared to his flat mate.

With a clear of his throat, the good doctor walked into the kitchen as she was about to check the fridge. John shut it just in time, god only knows what Sherlock had in there today. "I assure you, Miss Galken, Dally hasn't been here since that other day. If she does, we'll let you know and bring her back safely."

"No use of even trying to word any reassurance with this 'caretaker', John." The two looked to Sherlock who placed the bow to the strings of his violin. Eyes pierced right into Miss Galken's, a hidden but fixed glare. "She doesn't plan to leave until she gives this flat a full sweep."

Miss Galken mistook the glare, and nodded in a snobbish manner toward John. "Exactly right, she could be hiding here thanks to that vagabond. I plan to search every room."

John tried to stop her as she made her leave out of the kitchen and toward Sherlock's, not wanted to use excessive force on the lady. "Oh, but that won't be happening." The woman stopped and walked back into the living room seeing Sherlock now tuning and playing a bit on the instrument.

"Excuse me?" Hands on her hips, she stated. "For your information, I will be searching for this child."

"And for your low intelligence, if you attempt to make one more step to search this flat, I'll have no choice but to call the police." The woman's brows went low, as she glared the detective.

"What law am I breaking by giving a innocent search for a missing child from my facility?"

Sherlock let a shrieking stop to his playing, and sharply turned to the woman. Slowly, he strode over towering over the woman in a threatening manner. "A woman claiming a child is missing from her child care, yet she fails to report it to the police right away. Her first action, go to where the little girl ran off to a Consulting Detective informing him of a list of kidnappings happening at the said 'child care'. What would the police think of if after gaining this information, the child is suddenly missing- or possibly kidnapped? Unless you bring Scotland Yard with a warrant to search my flat, you have absolute no power to invade my living space. Now; Get. Out."

John was dead silent, he exhaled a silent sigh as he felt a large amount of anger and tension in the room. This was a true threat of Sherlock when someone he cared for was talked in such a manner. John was sure that if this was a man insulting Helena, he'd take this to a physical level.

Miss Galken recoiled at the icy glare this tall dark man gave her, feeling her throat tighten unable to even try and retort his words. The woman simply turned sharply, and shoved by John to descend down the stairs making her rash and irritated leave.

"..That was close." John commented.

Sherlock turned and placed his bow and violin on his chair. He rushed past John, and toward his bedroom. Helena inside sat on the bed, the second the door slammed opened, she jumped to her feet expecting it to be Miss Galken. Seeing Sherlock, she sat back down with a sigh. "Jesus, you scared me. Is she gone?"

Sherlock's eyes scanned the room, then toward the bed. "Dally, you can come out from under the bed, she's gone." He told and looked over Helena.

He still felt angry about the words that left from that lizard of a woman, but knowing Helena heard none of it was what he cared. Not that she would take it too personally, she'd find some choice words for her as well and go into a cat fight for sure. She was lucky she wasn't a male, Sherlock wanted to clip her around the face just once hearing what she said about his bird.

John came over as Helena helped Dally out from under the bed, wiping any dust or such off of her, but that could be from crawling through the vents earlier. "That was close, looks like you're here for the time being, Dally."

The girl looked up to John, "What do you mean?"

Helena chuckled, "Well, you obviously can't go back."

Dally frowned, "Won't she call Scotland Yard though? I heard her making those threats!"

"Impossible." Sherlock dismissed. "If it's true she's involved in this entire thing, she'll want the police out of it. If to her it's confirmed you're not here, she has nothing to worry. For all she knows, you're wandering the city lost somewhere."

Helena smiled, kneeling down to fix her hair and cleaning it of a bit of cobwebs. "Guess you'll be staying here until things are sorted out."

Dally blinked, was it true? Staying at the famous 221b flat? Dally never slept anywhere except that tiny cold damp room at the orphanage, she remembered that Helena slept here now and then. Her eyes went up to Helena as she stood up. "Don't you sleep here time to time?"

"Yup, that's true." She confirmed.

"..Should I sleep on the floor then?"

John and Helena were surprised by the question, looking to one another they both thought of sleeping arrangements. "Of course not, but until we get sleeping arrangements made, how about heading downstairs to check on Mrs. Hudson?"

Dally raised a brow, looking between the two. Her eyes fell onto Sherlock, he motioned his head toward the stairs. Nodding, she squeezed through the men and jumped every two steps down the stairs. They all finally left Sherlock's room, shutting the door, and into the main room looking around.

"Would she be comfortable sleeping in one of the chairs?" John asked looking over his and Sherlock's chair.

"Dally can sleep on the couch for sure." Helena said confidently with crossed arms. "I'll probably be out tonight investigating. Not to mention, I don't need this place for sleep. I have back up locations."

John turned to her, Sherlock was silently standing to the side, no opinion given- yet. "She might want you to sleep here, she still seems scared they might come for her. Poor kid.." John rubbed his neck, thinking this whole situation through.

Never had they had a child client, at least in person. Nor has a child slept or stayed at the flat, rarely did they even enter. If it wasn't Sherlock that scared them away, it was surely the skulls, weapons, and various other 'knick knacks' and were displayed about.

"Would Mrs. Hudson be alright if she slept downstairs?" John asked Sherlock, who finally looked up after possibly being in his Mind Palace.

"I told you; let Dally sleep on the couch. I'll find another place to sleep." She argued.

"Just sleep here, Helena." They looked to Sherlock, hands shoved in his pockets as his eyes were locked onto Helena. "It'd be best you stay with Dally while we investigate this case. Including sleeping here, be it my bed or a chair. It's better then some old, cold, bench out in the park or some roof to catch pneumonia. For yours and Dally's benefit, you'll be staying here."

Helena would've argued more on it, but Sherlock was right about everything he had said. "..Fine, I'll sleep on the chair or floor, I don't think Dally wants to be alone in a new place like this."

John clasped his hands together, gaining their attention. "Now that that's settled, where do we start on our investigation?"

* * *

**Thank you TheRiddleWriter, The Tabby, Loxxy, LumosNox116, xiannu007, Zeroko, MagicBrownie, BABree123, AleksYana, bella cullen the original, Raminta948, for the follow and favorites!**

**Bored411- I noticed hypnotism isn't touched here, always be different and original I say!**

**Goddess of Leo- RIGHT!?**

**Off this weekend, going to see Doctor Strange. So excited that Benedict has joined the Marvel family! Got morning tickets with my mom, she loves Benedict Cumberbatch and Marvel movies. Enjoy your weekend and hope you had a safe Halloween!**


	41. Chapter 41

**I wish Doctor Strange was out on DVD already, I want to watch it over and over again! Sorry this chapter took a while. Something went on with my family, and trying to get more hours at work. Currently sick with some throat cold, had to fight through some hours this week to get a good pay. Birthday is arriving! Thanks for the support, enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

"This is such a bad idea…" Mumbled John as he and Sherlock stood around the corner out of the sight of anyone who would look outside of the Child Care building.

The building stood tall and weak, as the two watched Helena scale it slowly and carefully along the brick side. She peeked into any window she came by, and when she found no way in, she continued upwards. John can't help but feel a pit of anxiety whenever he saw Helena up on the walls of a tall building. Sherlock watched intently waiting for Helena to find the right window to crawl through, initially not wanting her to scale too high.

"Why didn't we just go to Scotland Yard for this?" John asked, but gained instant regret when Sherlock sighed.

"We'll lose any evidence she has hiding in the building if we got Scotland Yard involved, John."

"But we'd get better access than just breaking in like this. Helena has enough on her record." He tried to excuse.

"If anything, she finds this the most exciting part of a case." Sherlock assured, he craned his neck upwards, the setting sun shined against the glass. But he made sight of Helena slipping through a window. Success.

"Alright, she's in. Our turn." John nodded, taking a breath as the two strode over to the door. Time to act, he thought.

* * *

Helena was careful of her steps as she scanned through the room; storage room. All that was in here was cleaning supplies. She questioned why a storage room would be on the top floor, but made her leave feeling tight in the room. Helena peeked out down the hall hearing nothing on the floor. It must be dinner time, so the kids were probably on the first floor eating their supper. She shut the door and made her way down to the second floor where the bedrooms for the older kids where. A lot still had some toys and blankets on beds, when she found Dally's it was completely empty.

"Seems she was eager to have her gone.." She speculated, taking her phone out to take a picture of the room. "I'll have to get as much evidence or hints of anything for Sherlock. Even if I find it a small detail." Helena walked in, finding the air vent still opened. "Yet, didn't touch this?"

It was sadly too small for Helena to fit her shoulders or hips through. But, she did remember that Dally went downwards finding the room where the conversation was held between the couple and Anthony. This meant she'd have to go down to the first floor, before that she did remember the office was on the second floor she was currently on. By now, Sherlock and John should have Miss Galken busy by the door, so may as well check the office while she had the chance.

Further down the hall, a door had a 'main office' plaque on it and her name 'Miss Galken' under it. Helena turned the knob, it was locked making her growl in frustration. Sherlock and Dally knew about lock picking, Helena was blind to it. But, what she did have was a Mind Map, the window to the room she can get into.

* * *

"Why would you be willing to help if you wouldn't even let me check your flat?" Miss Galken asked, still cross with Sherlock after earlier that afternoon.

"A child missing in the city of London is a big deal," Sherlock started with the most sincere tone, John bit his lip at the act. "You have these children to take care of, and if you won't go to Scotland Yard, allow me to find her and bring her back safely."

John cleared his throat, Miss Galken glanced over. "We just ask, any help at all where she could've gone you might know of? Our flat is a possibility, but she hasn't arrived at all. Anywhere such as a diner, park, or anything that she'd want to go to?"

Miss Galken frowned between the two, looking at the concern in Sherlock's eyes softened her up. She smiled and leaned up against him, "A man who cares deeply about a child's safety? How could I not resist help?"

John's eyes wandered upward, trying to word out if what she said either made sense or not. Sherlock held back a grimace as she played with his blue scarf around his neck. Oh, if only Helena saw this, John thought.

* * *

"Oh, if only Sherlock could see this.." Helena thought out loud, taking a good look at the office. It was a right mess, made 221B look like a heavenly retreat compared to this.

The desk was covered in papers, blank and written up. Bills were piled high and even were stuffed horribly in the drawers begging to be released. Boxes all over the floor were filled with toys, candy, and other kid assorts. More or less confiscated from them, some 'care' taker. Tip toeing about, Helena found a box that had Dally's collection of the stories John wrote on his blog, along with tools she used to pick locks. She left the papers, but pocketed the tools to give to Dally when they got back. She stood, eyeing up the dreadful navy blue faded wall paper, some torn corners and what she could guess was mold in a corner by a file cabinet. Wait- bingo!

She ran over best she could without tripping over the trash all over, and yanked at the handle- locked. "Why can't people just put down a trap instead of locking everything?" She grumbled and looked around the room to find something to pry the damn thing open. There had to be something sturdy for this cheap metal case.

Helena looked back, and pressed her hands on each side tilting it about. "Hmm, it feels pretty light." She slowly tilted the metal case backwards, hearing something shuffling to the gravitational end. "If she has all these kids' information, bills, and other important things out in the open, what could she be hiding in here?"

Unfortunately, even if Helena could unlock it, she was limited on time. Taking a photo of the room and the cabinet, she opened the door, making sure it was locked before shutting it. Standing in the hallway once more, Helena walked toward the stairs, her final objective was to check out the bottom floor.

"Thank you for your apology and time, gentlemen."

As Helena came down, she saw the front door opened, Miss Galken's back to her. Sherlock's eyes shifted upward behind her seeing Helena, she tried to give any notion or sign that she needed a bit more time. She tapped on her wrist, but Sherlock might have gotten the point when he saw her in the first place.

"Ah- Miss Galken," She paused closing the door. "I'll need your contact information before we leave. Please?"

Helena rolled her eyes seeing the puppy face he made toward the creature of the woman, but continued onward past the stairs. She found the dining room where she heard clatter of utensils against plates and kids talking loudly. Making haste, Helena sprinted across the opened room. She knew being slow and steady would cause creaks in the floorboards, gaining their attention for sure.

Almost in the kitchen, one door caught Helena's attention to her right. There was no label, so she turned the knob to check, and was surprised to find it unlocked.

"I must tend to the children now, so please- Yes, good bye."

In a rush, Helena ran into the room and shut the door. She guessed Sherlock and John could only keep her busy for so long. Looking around the room, it was pitch dark. Her hands felt against the wall, flipping a light switch, she found a single table with three chairs. Her eyes shifted up, finding the broken opening of the grate in the air vent, this was indeed where Dally almost fell out.

"This room must be where the conversation was held." Helena determined walking around the small room, hoping to find more. "...No window, and I can't even try the vent if I wanted to."

Helena, was stuck for sure.

* * *

"I don't see her, Sherlock." John said for the third time, an hour after they're talk with Miss Galken.

Sherlock's eyes checked every window trying to find any sight of Helena getting out. The thought of texting her came to mind, but she could be hidden where she had to stay silent.

"I didn't see her go back upstairs, if she was caught Miss Galken would've kicked her out for sure." Sherlock kept his eyes up, waiting for her to emerge any second.

In Sherlock's pocket, his phone vibrated alerting he had a text. He fished it out, reading the message aloud for John.

**Stuck in a room.**

**-Hawk**

First thought of her being in a tiny room came to mind, he texted back as John spoke. "What room is she stuck in?"

"Finding that out now." Sherlock told.

**What room on what floor?**

**Are you alright?**

**-SH**

A response was quickly made.

**First floor,**

**The room where Dally saw**

**the conversation happen.**

**I'm ok.**

**-Hawk**

"First floor, she said. It's where the boy talked with the couple Dally witnessed." Sherlock informed.

John took in some air, "So, it really did happen? Should we try to get Galken at the door again?"

Sherlock turned to him. "No, right now she's settling the children to bed, if anything it's best she waits until all the lights are out. I'll pick the front lock to let her out."

The blogger suddenly raised a brow at his flat mate, "When are you going to tell her about owning that gift?"

Sherlock grinned, "Once she observes that I indeed have used it to great needs." He said, taking out his lock picking kit; Helena's Christmas gift.

**Just wait there until all are in bed.**

**I'll give the signal to come out and leave.**

**-SH**

* * *

"Signal? What signal?" Helena sighed in frustration and slid down the wall she leaned against on, now sitting on the cold floor.

"I hope Dally is doing alright with Mrs. Hudson.." She thought to herself.

Glancing to the time on her phone she saw it was Eight at night; the children and babies should be to bed anytime now. The children maybe, but then again babies are hard to get down at times, right? Helena wouldn't know, at least she wouldn't remember if so. Most of her time she remembers in life is living on the streets helping homeless and surviving. She even now questions herself if she's good around Dally, no child care knowledge whatsoever. Good thing she had Mrs. Hudson to help, and Dally seemed smart enough to take care of herself as well as Helena would at her age.

Dally's life, her parents; Were they alive or dead?

_"I don't have a name… A birth name at least._

_"They call me Dally back at the home."_

_"It's a dumb name."_

That's right, Helena remembers her saying she had no birth name. Her parents must have died with no indication for her name. Helena's head shot up, maybe something about Dally was in the file cabinet? All the other kids' information were in open boxes and bins, except Dally's. Maybe, there was a deeper reason to her past then she thought. It would explain if Miss Galken knew what Dally witnessed or had another reason.

Helena checked her phone's time reading it now quarter past eight, she groaned to herself throwing her head back. Were any of them in bed yet? She typed up a text to Sherlock.

**Am I cleared to go yet?**

**-Hawk**

A few seconds went by, then minutes. Helena assumed lights were still on, indicated some were still awake. Her phone vibrated in her hand, she checked it.

**One light is left on.**

**Second floor, know the room?**

**-SH**

Helena's head went up, the office possibly? Suddenly, a knock came upon her door. Jumping to her feet, she hesitated to answer. Was it Miss Galken? Had she been caught? Well, worst comes to worst, she could shove her down and make a run for the front door. Having a hood to her jacket would help, but she wore her leather jacket this time.

"Helena." Came a whisper, a low male whisper.

"..Sherlock?" Helena opened the door, seeing indeed the tall man standing there, her eyes searched down the hall where John stood by the front door that was now wide open. Keeping watch, she guessed.

"Let's go, we got what we need." He told walking back to John. Helena followed, but paused at the stairs looking up at them. Sherlock turned seeing her stop, "Helena."

They didn't have everything, there was still that locked file cabinet she had to open. Whatever was in there had to be related to this case, or Dally at most.

"Helena, now." Sherlock hissed walking over ready to take her by the hand if need be.

She turned back to them, "There's one more thing. It's a locked file cabinet in that one lit room; the office. There has to be large evidence in there, if I can just-"

"We can't risk it, it would take too long to unlock it." The detective determined, turning to leave expecting her to follow. "We should leave before we get caught."

"And, there she goes." Sighed John, as his eyes went up behind Sherlock. He turned around seeing her dash up the stairs.

* * *

Leaning against the wall beside the office door, Helena's guess was correct to it being this room. The light cracked underneath the door, and she can hear footsteps inside. Helena started to question if she could get her out, somehow unlock the cabinet or find a key, and get out with the information without being seen. Now thinking it over, it seemed impossible. But, when is the next chance she'd have to get this close let alone get to it? Sherlock would do the same, for sure he would.

Her eyes shot down the hall seeing a toy lying there, one that was electronic and sure to make loud enough noise. She wound up her arm, and threw it down the stairs as it clattered to loudly in the silent building. It beeped and rang out loud voices as it laid at the bottom of the large staircase.

"What the-"

Helena turned and hid in Dally's empty room behind the door, just as the office door swung open. She peeked around seeing the shadow from the room, down the lower stairs the toy still beeped and high pitch noises screeched from it. The door was about to close, when a cry echoed out from the bottom floor. A groan was heard, Helena hid back as she heard the footsteps descend down the steps to tend to the baby below. Once she was sure, the Tramp rushed into the office while the door was wide open. She looked to her right, the file cabinet was still shut and locked. Helena looked to the desk seeing a ring of keys, some for the entrances, office, other rooms, and for sure this cabinet. She'd have to test them all, if need be. Though to save time, she could use Sherlock's observation to speed the process along-

Well, worth a shot; Helena looked over the multiple keys, what she noticed was there were more silver ones than copper ones. This could indicate these were to the rooms of the buildings, so she dismissed them. There was four copper keys, each one shaped differently, this was as far as her observation went so now Helena had to try all four. She putting in one, it didn't even get through or fit, so to the second. The next one fit, but didn't turn or move, she yanked it out not wanting it stuck and went to the third. It didn't even match the size, so the fourth one had to be the right one.

Footsteps echoed up the hall, she was coming back! Helena's hands shook to get the key in, missing a few times before- Success! It was the right key! It fit perfectly and managed to turn it, hearing an audible click of unlocking it. Would she even get the information before getting caught?

The sudden sound of a cry erupted her mind, the footsteps paused and faded out. One of the babies must have woken up, well it bought her more time! Helena gripped the metal handle, slowly and gently started to pull the cabinet open.

**Bing! Bing!**

"Shit!" She hissed lowly ripping the phone from her pocket to silent the damn device. She saw the screen alerted her on, 'John's Blog Updated!' Updated? Helena was sure John was still outside with Sherlock, and he never connected his blog to his phone. She pressed on the link, glanced at the file still slowly opening then to the page on her screen.

A video was posted there, Helena found this to be a bit off as John never posts videos. He barely posts photos alone! The blog was titled, 'Hello boys!', Helena's mind was boggled. 'Do forgive me for hacking into your blog' She frowned deeply, pressing her finger at the screen to play the video. Poking her head out the doorway, hearing the baby still wailing it's head off.

Her eyes shot back to her phone as it loaded for a moment, then the shot showed the front door of 221b in a side angle close to the door. "_Who lives in a house like this? It's only meee~."_ A voice whispered, Helena turned the volume up to try and distinguish the voice. Now in the home, the invader walked and gave a good look around by the stairs.

"_How clean is your house?"_ A sniff was heard, "_I smell baking. It's apple pie. The glorious Mrs. Hudson." _The intruder ascended up the stairs, "_Hello~"_

The screen cut to a shot of the wall at the top of the stairs by the doorway entry into the flat, "_God, look at that wall._" It continued invading the flat, Helena saw it was indeed empty. "_So here we are: Sherlock Holmes HQ."_ The man moved toward the table where a music sheet Sherlock had sitting there was shown. After a few seconds of staring, he declared, "_Too many notes."_

It zoomed in at other nick knacks and small trinkets Sherlock kept about the room. "_Boring, Boring…"_

"The voice is so low of a whisper, I can't tell who it is." Helena stated to herself, bringing he phone to her ear not wanting the volume to be heard from Miss G.

"_He's put headphones on it, good god."_

Helena tried closing her eyes to help her get an image of the voice. Brows knotted deeply and frown thick as she tried to figure the voice out. The camera went on showing the shelf, the man muttered books the same way about everything he saw being boring. It moved to a butterfly knife Sherlock used on the mantel to keep his mail in place… Stabbed into the wood.

"_Temper, temper, temper…"_ It moved to the infamous skull he kept perched on the end of the mantel. "_A skull!?"_ The voice let out, finally above a whisper, then in a low voice. "_I wonder what your skull would look like on my wall."_

_**"Robbed of this auburn sky."**_

Helena shot her eyes open, stumbled back dropping her phone. She felt her heart race, and instant fear ran through her body. Her eyes wide staring at the phone as he video continued to play. Her mind ran a million miles a minute! That voice; Jim Moriarty, she was sure of it! No face, just the voice. Her eyes closed made her relive that moment he had her, she had no sight of him. What was he doing there!? Why was he there?! How did he even get in!?

"_How the hours must fly by…"_ He muttered, zooming in on a Sudoku cube. "_...just like your little pet bird."_

_**"I wouldn't mind having this one has my own little house bird."**_

"_Alas, poor Sherlock, I knew you well." _

Helena dropped to the floor turning her phone off to silent the demon. The flat, 221b, John and Sherlock were with her. How long ago did this event occur, hell how long ago was this hacked and put on!?

Wait. She remembered him mentioning Mrs. Hudson, she was baking a pie so she was in her flat hopefully safe. Helena's heart dropped deeply to the pit of her stomach- Dally!

* * *

John, who one would expect to be pacing, instead stood by with arms crossed watching his friend pace about. Sherlock usually did said pacing when his mind was racing, which it was but not in the same usual way when thinking rapidly of a murder or case. Instead, it was racing about of Helena who still didn't emerge from the building.

"If she'd just listen to me, we'd be off with enough amount of evidence." Sherlock spat, cross with her going against his word. "But _no_, she had to go and risk ruining everything for some useless information she'll never get."

John shrugged, "What do you expect, that's Helena for you." he heard his friend sigh at him. "You never know, she might get some more light on this whole thing."

"She had a better chance waiting til we got Lestrade to do a proper search since we can't get in there." Sherlock countered pausing to look up for any sign of her.

"Helena goes the extra mile, like you-"

"There she is." Sherlock cut him off, John's eyes shot up seeing her leave the building out the window, and.. Rapidly climb about to jump to another roof.

"Where is she going?" John asked, the two followed noticing her sudden sprints turning into full bolt runs. "Something's wrong, she's heading towards Baker Street, Sherlock."

The said detective frowned, running to keep up with her, John following behind. She wasn't caught or else she wouldn't be running off this far without stopping to talk to them. Something was wrong indeed, as John said. But what?

* * *

"Mrs. Hudson, when will they come back?" Dally asked sitting in the kitchen of Mrs Hudson's flat. Her head rested in her folded arms on the table, obviously becoming impatient.

"Oh, they might not be back for a while or could be on their way now. There's no telling with those three." Mrs. Hudson told, washing dishes at her sink. "Half the time I don't even know what they could be up to in the flat, let alone out in the city."

Dally hummed to herself, tapping at the sal and better at the table. Baking a pie helped keep her interest calm, but now she was becoming restless. She sat up with a sigh and tipped her chair back to amuse herself.

"Don't tip the chair back, dearie. You'll hurt yourself." Mrs. Hudson told, not even glancing at her. Dally humphed placing the legs back down on the floor, looking around the room.

The sudden the sound of something slamming about came from the foyer. "Dally!? Mrs. Hudson!?"

Dally grinned, "It's Helena!" Dally ran out with Mrs. Hudson following after.

The two found Helena halfway up the stairs, "Dally! Where are-" Her head shot downward finding the two staring at her. Helena was wheezing from her running, sweat drenched her and hair was all a mess. The door was wide open, just as John and Sherlock came in, out of breath themselves.

"Helena… what's.. gotten into.. you..?" John asked between pants, leaning on the door frame.

Sherlock looked her up and down, watching her expression, movements, and current state. Her eyes went to them, then to Dally. She stumbled down the steps, almost falling not before holding the little girl tightly and close to her. "..Helena?" The little girl was confused, but hugged back when she felt how shaken up she was.

"Goodness, what is going on?" Mrs. Hudson asked seeing the distress in the three. "Did something happen?"

John was about to speak, but Helena suddenly asked. "Mrs. Hudson, did anyone come into the flat after we left?"

"What- no. Not that I know of, anyway. We were busy baking-"

"Apple pie." Helena looked over Dally, she stood and hugged Mrs. Hudson as well.

"Oh, my, yes." She hugged back as Helena crossed her arms, trying to chase the trembling in her arms away. "It does smell nice, right?"

John glanced to Sherlock, he looked to him but didn't say a word. "Er, yes. Yes, it does."

Dally looked over and jogged to Sherlock, "Mr. Sherlock Holmes! Did you find anything, was Anthony taken?"

He looked down to her, Helena kept her eyes on her. Sherlock glanced up to the Tramp seeing her struggle to hide her current state. "We've gotten some evidence, yes." He looked back down at her, "I just need to speak with my colleagues, if you please."

Dally tilted her head, tilting on her heels back and forth. "Sure thing, I know! I'll cut some of the pie for you that we made. Okay?" Before a response was made, she rushed back into the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson going after not wanting her to cut herself on the knife.

John turned to Helena, putting a hand on her shoulder, in turn she jumped spinning to him. Her eyes darted between them, her heart raced and her mind was in so many places. "Helena, what happened back there? You sprinted off like your life depended on it."

She gulped heavily, and looked down at her phone. Sherlock held a hand out, something on the phone is what caused her reaction. This much he knew. Her heavy breathing, shaky stature, and cold sweat explained it all. He curled his fingers in and out, motioning she give it to him. Helena thought of it, but became scared of his well being more suddenly. She sharply turned and hurried up the stairs, skipping every other step. Sherlock followed after in a calm pace, John following after the two as always.

Once they got to the top, Helena wasn't anywhere in the living room or kitchen. The sound of running water came down the hall, the two looked down indicating the shower was on in the bathroom. John sighed, taking his coat off.

"At least she didn't jump out the window, again." He assured, going into the living room.

Sherlock just stared at the bathroom door- if he didn't know what was causing this much trouble to Helena, he might just go crazy.

"What the hell!?" Sherlock turned to John's yell, seeing him glaring in confusion at his laptop. "How the-"

"What's wrong, John?" Sherlock asked approaching him.

"Someone hacked my blog, left a video on there." He told, hand to his forehead.

Sherlock scoffed, "Well it wasn't me." He joked, taking his coat off.

"No, no- I'm serious, Sherlock. Look!"

Sherlock walked over, looking over his shoulder looking at the bright screen. 'Hello Boys! Do forgive me for having into your blog!'. John started typing a comment, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes. Yeah, that'll give him some answers

Sherlock moved his finger across the touch-pad, clicking on the video to play it. It only took Sherlock to watch ten seconds of the video before he stormed out of the room and down the hallway. John glanced over, about to follow, but stayed behind to watch the the rest of the video to find out who did this.

* * *

Helena sunk deeply into the hot water filled tub, sighing heavily as she closed her eyes. She shuddered and shot her eyes open, shaking her head. For sure, after watching that video clip, Helena's mind would plague her with nightmares. Her hands came from under the water's surface and soaked her hair, feeling it grow dry.

Alright- so she could either sleep elsewhere in the city, or downstairs on Mrs. Hudson's couch. The real question is, sleep in the flat for Dally's safety, or leave and sleep some other place for Sherlock's safety. Either way, Moriarty was getting what he wanted, the joy of torturing someone. Currently, it was Helena. Dally was just a little girl, Moriarty wouldn't want anything to do with her, he probably didn't even know she was there. His goal is Sherlock.

"It's decided; I'm sleeping elsewhere." She determined to herself, leaning her head back against the tub rim.

"Might want to rethink that."

Her head shot up, rapidly turning to the door toward Sherlock's room. He stood leaning against the frame, arms crossed within in his one a mobile phone- her phone. She frowned and leaned herself against the tub, holding her hand out. Sherlock's head tilted, almost like a puppy not knowing what she wanted. But he knew, and she knew _he_ knew.

Helena leaned her bare chest against the tub more, motioning her hand to receive the phone. Sherlock didn't move one bit, he simply raised the phone to see the screen, getting through the lock screen. Helena started to scramble out of the tub, Sherlock turned away about to shut the door to give her privacy back. But she was quick enough to leap out of the tub and grabbed the door to keep it from shutting, Sherlock turned back as the door blocked her bare body to be seen. It was a stalemate- The bright screen shined on the two as they glared one another, though Helena's was more sharp then Sherlock's.

"Give. It. _Now_." She demanded lowly.

"Nope. Unless you want to tell me yourself." He offered, and darted his eyes across the room in there. "You may borrow my robe, if you'd like."

Helena growled and shoved her shoulder against the door, feeling him hold it against her as well. "I could just ram this door down, Sherlock."

"I would highly suggest covering yourself if you plan to."

Helena yelled in frustration, she kicked the door and rammed her shoulder against it harder. It jarred Sherlock, he almost dropped the phone as his free hand gripped the doorknob. He hadn't expected her to grow this upset, then again this was Helena he was dealing with. Whenever she held secrets from him, she would get this upset on how he would find out. This secret was beyond that dark past she wanted to keep from being discovered.

Sherlock's thoughts disrupted when the door was shoved opened at him, he stumbled back as Helena fell on top of him, both crashing to the floor. Her bare breasts pressed up against Sherlock's chest, his shirt and trousers absorbing the remaining water that dripped from her body. Her head rose up, not giving a single damn about their positions as she searched his hands for the phone, both were empty. Had he dropped it when they fell?

Pressing her hands against the floor to get up, Sherlock suddenly wrapped his hands around her forearms keeping her in place. Her hair hung over her head, dripping onto his shoulders and face, he ignored it.

"Just give me the bloody thing, now. I will scream." She threatened in a low whisper.

"I wouldn't advise it, unless you want John, Mrs. Hudson, or even Dally to come bursting through here." He whispered back.

She whipped her head about, trying to get her soaked hair out of her face to look for the phone. In the process she was getting more water on Sherlock, she didn't care. Maybe she could get some droplets into his eyes to distract him, and let her go.

"Would you stop for one second?" He asked, moving his head to the side to avoid the spatter.

She paused and stared down at him, "One." then continued.

But paused spotting the phone had slid by the bed. Helena looked down, and raised her head, and brought it down. Not to smash her head into Sherlock's, but to simply smack her wet hair into his face to blind him temporarily. It had worked, his grip died off, she jumped to her feet and ran around the bed grabbing the phone. Although, Sherlock got up just as fast, and took her by the wrists and pressed her against his bed, him now on top of her.

"I'll give you one more chance- tell me." Sherlock demanded, though his voice was still calm as he said this. "You've acted strange ever since we got back. You go into a state of fear, that I've only seen happen twice to you. When your phobia acts up, or when…" Helena turned away closing her eyes tightly, her lip was chewed on tightly. "..When Moriarty returns."

Her arms flinched at the name, her eyes opened but strayed away from his gaze. Sherlock's eyes softened, being tough and hard never worked. It just made her fight against it more. He sighed and lowered her face closer to hers, whispering gently.

"You can talk about it, Helena. You know you can tell me anything, please talk to me.." A sigh escaped her, she glanced to him finding those puppy eyes. These were real, not the usual ones he used to act his way through the case.

"..I-I.." He pressed his forehead against her temple, her breathing calmed and became even at the gentle nuzzling he presented to her. She gulped and sighed, facing his to press her forehead against his. "I don't..you'll get hurt.." Helena muttered lifting her head to move in sync with his.

Sherlock smiled gently, of course this was to protect him. Others' care was always before her own. "What about you?" He asked, looking down at her, face now dry. Her hair was growing dry as it splayed about on his bed sheets. "I can't stand seeing him do this to you." He admitted.

Her eyes opened, both staring intently at each other. Sherlock swallowed before continuing, "You ran from the home, you saw the video on John's blog and ran back. Worried about Mrs. Hudson and Dally, not knowing if they were hurt by him or not."

"I had to go see-"

"I know, I know." He soothed, wanting her to keep calm, but talk it through to him. He honestly hated having her hide all these things from him. Sure, Sherlock Holmes loved a mystery- a good one at least. But when someone he cared for, someone he deeply loved was troubled to the point of this state... He just wished Helena would talk to him more.

Helena sniffled, feeling her eyes water up. "Sherlock, I'm sorry I just- I couldn't let… You and.." Helena sniffled more and tears threatened to escape her eyes and stain her finally dry face.

"Sherlock, I keep hearing thudding and yelling. Is everything-"

Sherlock and Helena looked up, finding a stunned John Watson at the door. His jaw hung and eyes shifting between the two. To the two, it was just a simple talk. To John, it looked like his friend was about to have his way with his other friend.

* * *

**Thank you Joldino-Sidestreaker, garbolaughs39, You can't rush science, Draeica, Nordicwaffle, G-Minnie, BriaDelAngel, selene sheppard, Diaboli Corvus, Pamelasilos, for the follow and favorites!**

**CJ/OddBall- It is indeed! This arc is all written by me, and I'm honestly shocked you like it! I'm not really one to write my own murder or mystery, so this one is super hard, along with keeping up on the events/timeline of the series. But thank you SO much, this really means a lot to me and I feel super- just WOW! I agree, thankfully my parents and I had no problem but I was concerned for my epileptic friend. She said she was fine though. I think that's my favorite thing in this fic that is super real- her fear of him. I want this to be remembered largely as we continue onward toward The Fall.**

**Nevermorea- Wow, binged the whole thing? Awesome! Let me know how long it took, I'm curious with how long I write these and the number of chapters it took to get through. Thanks! I try absolutely hard to keep characters in, well, character. I think John is actually more difficult than Sherlock, to keep him involved and in mind that he (or he thinks at least) he's the one normal person in the group. Thanks and hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	42. Chapter 42

**SEASON FOUR HAS COME AND GONE! I really like how it ended, so open for anything to happen, but a nice end for all our hearts. Will I continue even after season 4? Let's see where season 2 in the story takes us first! ENJOY!**

* * *

One brain was thinking how right he was about the two of his friends. Another brain thought of how this was going to be stressing as hell as having to tell John about this Moriarty business as well. The third brain thought…. 'Damnit John'.

"Sh-Should I leave or...?" John turned his face away, not wanting to stare at Helena's bare body. A head came up rubbing his neck anxiously. "Sherlock you could've locked the door or given me a heads up." He muttered, only to earn a glare from the man.

"Its nothing like _that_, John." Sherlock hissed, as he got up and rounded the bed towards the bathroom door.

Helena sat up, arms over her chest. "Sorry, John…" She mumbled, wiping her eyes best she could.

"OH! No, no! I-I'm sorry, Helena." He told, trying to keep his eyes elsewhere.

A red robe was draped over her shoulders, she pulled her arms through the sleeves. Sherlock crossed his arms, looking back at his flat mate. John looked to him, jumping at the glare for possibly starring at Helena's back. She stood, now covered in the robe, as she tied the sash around her waist. It looked long enough on Sherlock, the sleeves almost hang off her wrists as the bottom touched the floor by her feet. Sherlock himself was a tall man, after all. Helena rolled the sleeves up past her wrists and.

John frowned in confusion. Sherlock nodded and nudged John out of the room. He expecting him to follow after, though the door shut right behind him. He was about to call Sherlock to come out, but a voice in the other room turned his attention back.

"Doctor Watson, will they be joining us?" Asked Dally as she was placing the plates of pie slices on the coffee table.

John sighed, giving the door one last look before joining the orphaned girl. "Of course, Dally." He assured smiling to her as he sat at the couch. "They just need to…" he paused thinking what to say.

"Is Miss Helena alright?" He looked up at her, noticing the worry in the young girl's eyes. "She was shaking as she hugged me, did something happen? Did she get hurt? I didn't see any scratches or blood on her, just a lot of sweat."

Of course Dally noticed, she was like a little Sherlock in a way. Was it smart to tell what happened? Then again, maybe he could get some answers from Dally. She might have seen Moriarty when he entered.

"Dally, did anyone visit the flat while we were gone? At all?"

She shook her head, "Nope, Mrs. Hudson and I were in the kitchen making the pie, no one knocked or anything."

From what John saw, Moriarty just entered the flat. He was silent in movements, but was whispering. They must have been too preoccupied with baking to hear anything. "Just remember, if you hear anyone come in that isn't me, Sherlock, Helena, or Mrs. Hudson just hide."

Her head tilted to the side in wonder, then shot it straight understanding."Oh! In case Miss Galken comes for me again?"

"...Er, yea. We're sure she won't but she seems determined to find you." John smiled, ruffling her hair making the girl giggle. "I need to speak with Sherlock and Helena," He checked his wristwatch, and sighed. "And it's getting late."

Dally groaned childishly, probably the actual only notion that reminded John this was indeed a child he was talking to. "Where should I sleep?"

John stood, "Downstairs; Mrs. Hudson is setting the couch up for you to sleep on. If you need anything, let her or us know."

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes doesn't sleep." John's brows raised at that sudden statement. "Should I go to him for anything, I wouldn't want to wake you or Miss Helena up."

His brows went back down, chewing his lip. "Probably best to wake us up, Dally. Sherlock, he's.. Well-"

"He's not good with children." The two looked over seeing a fully dressed Helena come in, Sherlock following along. Helena yawned and knelt down to Dally. "I promise we'll talk about your case tomorrow. We just need to figure things out before then."

Dally sighed, but nodded. She picked up a slice of the pie and handed the plate to her. "Eat something, you look tired, or hungry."

Helena chuckled and wrapped a free arm around to hug the little girl. John smiled, Sherlock rolled his eyes as he walked over to his chair to sit down. Dally trotted down the stairs to sleep, Helena sighed letting her smile fall.

"Helena."

She turned to Sherlock, he nodded towards the chair across from him. It was time for her to confess- tell everything. After having a bath, she felt her body grow warm with sweat threatening to appear. Stepping over, she slowly sank into the chair, her eyes down at the floor. John moved to the dining chair, plate in his hand not wanting to be rude to Dally's offer. It was silent for a few minutes, Sherlock's fingers pressed to one another, waiting patiently. Helena's mouth ran dry, trying to think how to start this. She placed the plate on the end table to her left, and fished her phone from her back pocket eyeing it up. Her head pounded as she opened the text messages, and clicked on 'unknown number'. With a deep swallow, she read out the words on her screen.

"'Bored little pet? I know a game to play'. Who is this? This number only works for certain people'. 'Then I must be special to you'."

"Christ.." Mumbled John, resting a hand over his mouth. Sherlock's fingers curled against the leather armrest of his chair.

"'We shared some time together. How could I not get your number?'. I-I don't respond to him, at this point. And he.. s-sends this." Helena's breathing starts to grow deeper, John leans at the edge in case she starts to hyperventilate, seeing how much this really was affecting her.

Sherlock stands and takes the phone from her hands, she doesn't object as he scrolls down seeing the words she meant. "'Aw, don't ignore me. I wrote you a poem. I know something you had done, way back when you were young. You were desperate to live and breathe, enough to sleep with all to please. If you don't want Sherlock to know, get the phone you-'" Sherlock bit his lip, looking away to hide his anger at those _disgusting_ words.

"Dirty hoe.." Helena finished, bringing up a hand biting her nail.

"Is that what it really says?" John asked, looking to Sherlock who gripped the phone tightly.

"'Missed you, Birdie. Did you miss me?'." There was nothing else after that, Sherlock glared intently at those words; those _damn_ words. That's how she knew Irene's phone had that information prior. The most recent text was the day she left the flat in a sudden hurry. That's why she was acting the way she was- shaken, dropping things, trying to hide it all from him. Was it out of pride?

...No.

He looked to her, she instantly looked away with arms firmly around herself. It was out of something else, his chest ached seeing her like this.

"_Burn a __**heart**_ _out of you."_

That was why! This was exactly why she was avoiding him; to protect him. Jim was scaring _her_, torturing _him_, and enjoying it from the very beginning. He walked over to her and crouched down to her level, placing the phone in her lap as she refused to look at him.

"Helena," She sighed and looked up at him. Breaking; this was breaking him inside seeing her so terrified and vulnerable. Sherlock wanted to assure she was safe, but would want that he was as well. Knowing her, she'd argue. He was sick of arguing.

"I know what you're going to say."

"What?"

"..Why didn't I tell you this from the beginning. But, you know why, don't you?"

John stood and walked to her chair, not too close to crowd her. "Why?" He asked.

Sherlock stood, strolling to the fireplace as he spoke. "Helena is the type of person to think of others than her own- safety, health, care. Keeping her distance to assure others safety, like her brother all those years." Sherlock looked to her, his hands folded behind his back. "You learned being away from him and keeping secrets was not the way to protect him. You are doing the same to him as you are to John and I." Helena looked up finding his intense stare on her. "You don't know who he was- what he looks like or what he is capable of. Yet, you still prefer to put yourself in this corner for what?"

Helena took a breath through her nose, keeping eyes on him. "For you- for John, Mrs. Hudson, and now it may even be Dally."

John sighed, with folded arms. "Helena, we want you safe too. Throwing yourself out there in a pit of danger isn't the way to do it."

Helena stood, now anger striking across her features. "How else am I supposed to handle this, John!?" The man was silent, shocked by her outburst. "This is exactly what that bloody lunatic wants- he wants Sherlock to get hurt. You heard him too, I know you did. 'Burn a heart out of him'. How can you both just continue on without that haunting you?!"

John didn't have to explain, he was a military man this was expected when in war. He was used to danger, maybe even addicted to it. Sherlock, it was a living occupation for him. Solving crimes, coming face to face with killers and putting his life on the line. And for what? The thrill, the chase- all that rubbish. There was a side of Sherlock doing it for good, 'not on the side of angels' he claimed. But whenever he was faced with a true killer or lunatic, he showed great disgust wanting him to face justice.

"Sentiment."

The two glanced to Sherlock, who was looking toward the mantel. "What?" John asked.

"Sentiment; a weakness Moriarty has found in me- in us, Helena. We can't let him win, and do you know how?" She kept silent to hear his answer. "We keep going." He walked over to her, his hand reaching from his back over to her own holding it. She looked down, feeling the tight but gentle hold on it, then back up at him. "I can't assure you he won't return, but I won't let him hurt you, or John, Mrs. Hudson, even Dally."

Helena swallowed thickly at his words, the two kept tight eye contact. John smiled between the two, and cleared his throat. They glanced to him, as he placed a hand over the two tight hands. "This includes me to, y'know. You can always comes to me as well for anything, Helena."

Finally, a true genuine smile graces her lips. She let out a soft chuckle, placing her send hand on top of the men's hands. "Thank you."

* * *

Sherlock didn't sleep that night, he sat at the dining table typing his laptop for any research for the current case. Why would children be taken? What role did hypnotism play at? Such a thing didn't work nor exist to Sherlock. Something else had to be at play here to make the children just easily agree. From what Dally told, the children had different emotions- they were happy and calm. While most she said were rebellious and had horrible attitudes-

Sherlock paused in his typing. No, something was there he saw it. It had to be a certain type of child they took, and only that type. He leaned back in the chair, pressed his hands together and rested the top of them to his chin entering his Mind Palace.

"_Between six and ten."_

That's right, the age mark of the kids were not toddler, not babies, but genuine children. Why these ages?

_"Almost twice every other day."_

So the adoptions are often, if these were real adoptions there had to be documents proving as such. But it'd be proven useless, writing alias names. Miss Galken had to be involved in some way, but what would she gain? Money; money and greed was always in play.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

He cracked open an eye spotting the little clever girl at the doorway. Her head tilted with curiosity, staring at him like he was some weird art display. Sherlock made no notion for her to approach, she did anyway. A Croucher blanket was wrapped over her shoulders, the long end dragging behind her bare feet.

"Where's Miss Helena?" She asked, rubbing her eye tiredly.

"Sleeping." He bluntly told, closing his eyes to return to his Mind Palace.

Dally looked around finding her on the couch, curled up with a blanket over her. She groaned and turned over pressing her face against the pillows. She tilted her head, with a yawn walking over to her.

"Don't wake her up." Sherlock said, she turned seeing his eyes were still closed.

"But she said to wake her if I couldn't sleep." Dally argued, walking back over to the detective.

She stood by his chair, resting her hands on the arm rest staring at him. She let out a yawn or two, still watching him. Soon he grew irritated, by the third yawn he dropped his hands to his lap and looked toward her. "Go back to sleep."

"I can't." She told.

He tried to think through, what did kids usually need when woken up at night. Sherlock thought back to himself when he woke up, what he mother did for him. "Cup of warm milk?" She shook her head. "Bathroom?" Shook her head again. "Late night meal?" Another shake of her head left him stumped. "...Then what?"

Ducking her head down, she mumbled against the armrest against her lips. Sherlock rolled his eyes, and motioned for her to move her mouth to hear her better. "..I had a nightmare.." She shyly told, looking away to the floor.

Nightmare, Sherlock pondered. As a child he had nightmares here and there, but he didn't want his brother teasing him for those so he never went to his parents for those. He just told himself anything in dreams weren't real, and can't come true.

Sherlock looked to her, leaning back into his chair pressing his fingertips against one another. "Well, dreams or nightmares are not real. They are just images that your brain projects in your mind to see, ranging from memories or simple stories your brain makes up through ideas and emotions. Nightmares are simply dreams that are created by your brain to frighten you, varying by what exactly it is you fear. But it can never, in reality, cause serious harm- Unless you include shock, nausea, or inability to return to sleep."

He looks to the little girl who stared at him, mixture of confusion and awe. He frowns, and nods to the door. "So, you can go back to sleep." He assured.

"But I have the inabilit-aly to go back to sleep." She told, ducking her head down.

"It's 'inability'."

Dally walks over to John's chair and climbs up curling up in it, looking to Sherlock. "Can I tell you my nightmare?"

Sherlock sighed, glancing to Helena. This was her or John's jurisdiction, maybe waking them up was a better idea then he deal with it. Though Helena needed the rest from those events plaguing her, could John handle this?

"I'll go to sleep if I can tell you." Dally offered, knotting her fingers in her lap.

Sherlock raised a brow at this, thinking it over. A quick telling of the nightmare and she was gone back downstairs to sleep. Then he can return to his mind palace in peace. "Fine." He agreed, leaning back and propping his ankle up on his knee to seem interested.

"Okay, um-" She cleared her throat trying to act as professional as Sherlock. "It started with umm, white."

"...White." Sherlock repeated.

"Don't interrupt." She demanded softly, he sighed again letting her continue. "Anyway, it started with white, and there was snow. I felt like I was tied up and couldn't move, and someone was walking away. I.. Felt sad and started crying, trying to reach out to whoever was leaving me in the cold snow.." Dally gulped feeling her throat tighten.

"..And?"

"The whiteness turned dark, and I couldn't see anything, but I kept hearing people talking." She pauses and leans forward in the chair looking at him with wide eyes. "What does it mean?"

Sherlock shrugged, "How should I know?"

"You're a detective, aren't you? Deduce my dreams." She tells, but Sherlock stands ignoring her wish.

"You said you'd tell your dream and leave to go back to sleep." He walks over to the door, waving toward it. "Back to sleep."

"Please? Please?" Dally pleaded, leaning over the arm of the chair, gripping it tightly. "This.. er, this isn't the first time I've had this dream." She admits, looking down rubbing her fingers against the fabric of the chair. "I get it a lot, and it's the same thing over and over. John said he used to have nightmares of when he was in war on his blog, so is this from my past?"

"..It could be or a thought of your future."

Dally gasped as her head shot up, "I'm going to be tied up as a grown up?"

"Possibly." Sherlock mused shortly.

Though he stood by the door waiting for her to leave, Dally didn't dare move. He sighed deeper and walked over to the little girl. "To bed, you can tell your dream to Helena or John tomorrow."

With her head bowed down, she got off the chair and drug her feet to the door. She gave a last puppy eye glance, hoping he'd let her sleep on the chair or talk some more. He simply sunk back into his own chair, closing his eyes and returning to his Mind Palace. Her lip quivered, she continued to leave down the stairs to lay on the couch and stare the ceiling until morning.

* * *

The next morning, the three in respective chairs -John and Sherlock in theirs, Dally and Helena on the couch- explained to Dally what they saw at the orphanage. Helena gave Sherlock her phone to show the photos she took of everything. He was indeed impressed, knowing he'd want every detail.

"Do we go to Scotland Yard now?" Dally asked, sitting right to Helena ready to jump to her feet.

"We usually never do, unless really needed." Helena told, patting her shoulder.

"But this _is_ really needed!" She got to her feet and ran over to Sherlock, who was looking through the photos. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes-"

"Just Sherlock."

"..Mr. Sherlock." He sighed, as he was finding her annoying by adding 'Mr' or 'Miss/Mrs' to every name. "Call Officer Lestrade, he can arrest Miss Galken and find Anthony and the other kids."

"That's not how it works, Dally." John told, "The police can't arrest someone without proof of them doing something wrong."

"But, Miss Helena took photos of everything." She argued.

"Yes, but it only proves that your words were right, but not enough that something is wrong."

"If I opened that file cabinet…" Helena muttered, chewing her lip.

"It's nothing to dwell on now." Sherlock told, putting the phone down.

"The big one in her office?" Dally asked looking to her.

"Yeah, the one by the door."

"I know Miss Galken keeps secrets in there. If I was taller, I would've picked the lock." Dally explained, she looked to Sherlock who was pressing his hands together, then copied his movements putting her hands against her lips.

Helena bit back a laugh and stood, "Where do we go from here?"

John leaned back in his chair in thought. Good question, where do they go from here? "We'll do as Dally suggested." They all looked to Sherlock, he folded his fingers and looked to them. "Lestrade can give us a right to look into that file cabinet, and maybe even get words out of her." His eyes went down to Dally as he stood. "Good idea, Dally."

The little girl beamed at the detective's praise, cheeks turned red as she covered them. John smiled and stood. "So, to Scotland Yard?"

"Should I stay here?" She asked.

"Actually, it's best if you join us. You are a key witness after all, and a girl with high suspicions." Sherlock told as he walked past to get his and John's coats hanging on the door.

Dally jumped in placed, "I get to the the famous Scotland Yard?"

Helena took her leather coat from the dining chair and Dally's on the other, handing it to her. "That's right. Greg is really nice, he'll listen to all you have to say."

"I know, Mr. Sherlock likes to forget his name though, doesn't he?" She asked in a whisper.

Helena chuckled placing a finger to her lips. "Just remind him if he forgets, alright?" She nodded, putting her jacket on, and the four headed out of the flat into the outside Spring air.

Sherlock hailed down a cab, and they call climbed in, Helena and Dally sitting across from the boys. "To Scotland Yard." He told the driver, and the car pulled out into the road.

It was content silence until a thought was brought to Dally. "Oh yea!"

John and Helena looked to her, "What is it?" he asked.

She smiled to them, "I had a dream last night and Sherlock said I should share it with you."

Helena's brows shot up, "Wait, last night? Sherlock-"

"He said my dreams mean I'll be tied up as a grown up. Is it true?"

The two blinked in shock by her words. They shifted to Sherlock who was looking down at his phone not paying attention. "He did, huh?" Helena asked, waiting for him to feel her stare on him.

"I, uh, I don't think he meant that, Dally." John assured, worried completely what else he told her.

Finally his head went up, feeling someone's eyes indeed burn on him. "Didn't mean what?"

She shook her head, "That's what Sherlock said. I was going to be tied up as an adult, I don't want to be!" She protested, hugging Helena's side. Two glares were sent toward Sherlock who looked between them innocently.

"I said 'possibly'!"

John sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Oh, Sherlock.."

The detective was like a child in trouble, he looked to Dally who gave a short smirk his way. It occurred to him, she was throwing him under the bus for last night.

* * *

**Thank you galwidanatitud, Darklordfanboy2, LKBgirl, SpartanEra, Vickie1996, Spiraling-Dragon, Lillypebbles666, GraniteSkellington, CaptainKodak, , CrzyAsians, ArtMusicBooks uand Famdoms, RaineRosemary, Gin'iro no Neko 8, elenasoto1, X DANDYLION X, Squintz18, Wolfeene, Claydoh101, kimson, acmbtg, EllaOwner, StillDreamingOn, Nightlock412, EctopicKnight2, lapierredx01, bright eyed writer, Chicken360, for the follow and favorites!**

**Bored411- I was planning to extend it longer, but I kept the wait long enough as it is. Thanks! Got over the cold well, though might have passed it to my dad. Weather is super cold here, hope it snows soon.**

**Jenakara- Glad you loved the ending! It seems cliche, but this is taken in a different way than it usually is. Since Helene doesn't really care being naked in front of Sherlock. Thanks I shall!**

**CJ/OddBall- WOW! This has to be the longest review I ever had. My email couldn't even post it all there! It was 24th birthday on the 21st, thanks! I spent the day traveling to Delaware and Philly with my dad, and played FFXV. I agree! He's turning more human and it's not bad, he keeps thinking sentiment is bad. It goes both ways I see it, it can weaken you but also make you stronger.**

**Galwidanatitud- Awesome job! Hope you liked this chapter! More to come!**

**Guest- AWWW you're too much! It's seriously heartwarming to read that as I wish to write or direct my own shows for BBC one day!**

**CrzyAsians- Glad you liked the ending! Thanks!**

**CaptainKodak- So sorry, but don't worry! The wait is over and back to writing full force!**

**I'd like to add in here, anyone who is highly into Final Fantasy or the latest one, I'll be working on a Final Fantasy 15 story! If you really loved the game, please let me know and I'll pass on details best I can. I find game fics harder to write, so don't worry about this being ignored, I'll be doing side by side, back and forth for sure.**


	43. Chapter 43

**Hello all! It's so weird seeing Summer stuff already at my work, I'm ready for Spring but not yet Summer. Which reminds me to get ready for AnimeNEXT this. Are any of you going? If so, keep an eye out for me, I'll post my cosplay list once I figure it all out with my gang. Enjoy!**

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The staring seemed to have lasted far longer than expected. Her frown was small and her brows strained to stay low and tight. The man she stared at no longer could keep his focus on the explanation Sherlock tried to give him.

"Sorry Sherlock-" He held a hand up pausing the man. "Repeat this one more time." He asked rubbing his eyes.

Greg felt exhausted after these four burst into his office without an early notice; two were calm, one was keeping track of keeping the child from touching anything, and said child was finding every single item in the office fascinating.

Sherlock sighed rolling his eyes, he absolutely hated to repeat himself. Helena put a hand on his arm, maybe she should say it all again for him.

"What we're saying, Lestrade, is that these kids are being taken under the ruse of adopting them. Why their kidnapping them, we still don't know. We just know these kids are being taken-"

"You know the drill, what proof is there of this happening?" He asked, feeling rude to cut Helena off compared to Sherlock.

"Well, Dally's a witness." John informed, standing by the little girl holding her hand. She had a tight grip, but it didn't bother a military man like him.

Greg's brows shot up, his eyes going to the little girl who shyly stood against John's leg. "That so?" He stood and walked around his desk, kneeling in front of Dally. He put on a soft smile, working with kids was part of his job in case they got involved in a case. He saw this being no different.

"Mind telling me what you saw, Dally?"

Her cheeks grew warm, but she nodded. "..I saw them hypnotise a kid."

Greg frowned slightly, "Hypnotise?"

"Hm-hmm, they held a coin up in the air." She held her arm out reenacting her memory, fist tight as if holding the coin. "They spoke really soft and gentle, and said when they'd drop the coin, he would fall asleep." She opened her hand, as if a coin would fall out, and returned her arm to her side.

"Did it work?"

"Umm, it didn't happen.." She told looking away from him.

Helena explained, "Dally was in an air vent of the building when she found the room the event held. But she almost fell through interrupting them, so she ran off to find Sherlock and tell him."

Lestrade stood turning to her and Sherlock. "So that's why she's here with you three. But why tell me this? You can handle it, right, Sherlock?"

Said detective huffed and looked away, pride always was a default for him. Helena nudged him, but he only elbowed her back childishly.

"Mr. Sherlock said he needs your help to get evi-dance." Dally told.

"Evidence." Sherlock corrected her, he looked to Greg who held a large amusing grin. He rolled his eyes with an annoyed sigh, "We just need a permit to search Galken's office, the caretaker."

Dally spoke up at the DI's confused expression. "Miss Helena climbed through a window and saw a file cabinet she couldn't open. We need to see inside it!"

Greg looked to Helena who chuckled, "Oh boy, those imaginations, eh?" She laughed off, Greg shook his head.

He walked back around his desk and sat back down with a sigh, rubbing his back neck. "Well, I'll see what I can do. If I could just talk with Dally privately so I can get the whole story."

Dally clung to John's leg, he knelt down still holding her hand. "Remember the stories I wrote, he's a really good friend and he's really nice. We'll be right outside, so we won't be too far."

The girl nodded, and let John's hand go, so the three could leave. They only stood outside the office, as Greg shut the door. Helena watched through the window, he smiled and gently spoke with her as she got comfortable sitting in the chair in front of his desk. Soon she started talking, Helena turned looking to the boys.

"If Lestrade can't help us, what do we do then?" She asks them, looking at Sherlock. "The answer to where these children are and why they are talking them is all in that cabinet."

Sherlock answered, "Lestrade can and will get us that search warrant. If not, we'll either sneak into there again with the lock picks or follow a kid who gets adopted to where they take them."

Helena nodded, those were worth a shot. She swung her arms behind her back and paced a bit, Sherlock just stood there watching as John looked around- the three waited for a short while. Soon, the door opened, Dally running out with a smile toward Helena. She knelt down and picked her up.

"So?" John asked to Lestrade.

He approached them, hands in his pockets. "The fact this is coming from a child, it might help. Wouldn't want to take any chances, if there is proof in that file cabinet, then a search for missing children will be held and a case will be made." He explained.

Helena put Dally down, heavier than she looked. "Would these help?" Sherlock asked, fishing out photos he printed from Helena's phone the night prior.

Lestrade took them, flipping through each one to look for anything. "I'm guessing this is the file cabinet?" He asked, looking at the photo of it. "Why didn't you just pick it open, you're good at that, right?" He asked Helena, thinking back on her escapades.

"No, I sneak into open windows, not pick lock doors." She told folding her arms. "If Sherlock was there, it'd be possible."

"Or me!" Dally bousted, shooting a hand into the air.

She told him in her story that she picked locks to leave the home, he was worried but impressed at the same time. "When do we start?" John asked, eager to get this figured out.

Lestrade's smile fell, shaking his head. "It'll take a while for me to get this to pass, but I'll inform you once it's been processed." Helena nodded, understanding. "Until then, keep Dally off the streets. If it's true this woman and the other two might take her as she's a key witness to all of this."

Dally gave a salute. "I'll stick to them like glue, Inspector!" She told, and hugging Helena's leg almost making her lose balance.

Lestrade let out a chuckle, he ruffled her hair- so cute. "I trust them to keep you safe until this is all over." He looked to Sherlock, "I'll text you once I get the approval."

Sherlock nodded and made it toward the door, the three followed, Dally holding Helena's hand tightly as they left Scotland Yard. Sherlock called a taxi, Dally rubbed her stomach as they waited.

John took noticed and bent down, "Ah, you didn't eat breakfast did you? How about we take you somewhere to eat?"

Dally beamed at that, Helena grew a concerned face. "Lestrade said to keep her off the streets, John."

He stood straight, "If we're with her, it should be fine. We won't go too far from Baker Street, I know one close by."

"Can I have sausage and eggs and beans?" Dally asked jumping up and down.

"Sure, John's probably hungry too, right?" Helena teased, earning a laugh from the man. As a cab came up, Sherlock opened the door for them. John and Dally piled in Helena paused looking to him. "Will you join us?"

"I don't eat on cases, I'll be at the flat starting off my work." He informed, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

"Hmp, alright. We won't be long, so don't leave anything around to horrify Dally." She told, reaching up patting his cheek.

He moved away giving her a look, she giggled and got into the car shutting the door. Watching the cab drive off, Sherlock coughed into his hand ignoring the warmth in his face and the light feeling in his stomach.

* * *

The restaurant was indeed not far from the flat, a few blocks down, Helena sat next to Dally watching her neatly eat her poached eggs, sausages and toast. They asked about the beans, but they only had ones with spice in them, why it was beyond them. Dally was content with her jam on toast. John ate something of the same, Helena just had a glass of water. She smirked to herself, pretty much feeling like a hypocrite; getting on Sherlock about eating and here she was skipping a meal. Though she didn't feel hungry, so she couldn't force herself to eat. Maybe around lunch she'll have some of that leftover pie.

Helena pulled her phone out looking over any new messages, none were made much to her relief. Why did Jim make that video and post it on John's blog? To mess with him of course, he knew Sherlock may have found his games fun, but that ended once the safety of John and Helena came to play. Her brows lowered to a knot, wishing she knew what he looked liked. She looked out the window, watching people walk by. He could be anyone in the city, literally _anyone_.

Her thoughts drifted to the night before, thinking of Sherlock's words of protecting her. It made her heart skip, remembering the hold he had on her hand. Sentiment.

A sudden thought ripped through her mind. Sentiment, toward one another. Was that his way of saying how much he cared for her? Letting a hint of his true feelings out to her!?

"Miss Helena?"

"Hm?" She was shot back to reality feeling Dally shake her arm by her side. "What's up?"

"Are you okay?" Okay? "Your eyes were huge, like this." Dally indicated pulling her eyelids open. "And you were chewing on your lip like you were hungry."

Her tongue skimmed her inner lip, feeling the teeth marks she was leaving there. Blinking her eyes back to normal, she saw Dally offer part of her toast to her. "Are you hungry?"

She chuckled and patted her arm, letting her put the toast back onto her plate. "So, sorry, sweetie. I was just thinking."

"About last night?" John asked, putting some of his remaining egg into his mouth. He glanced up at him, Helena didn't answer but avoided his gaze. That meant yes.

"Mr. Sherlock is mean, but he was really nice last night." Dally pointed out, nibbling on her second sausage.

The two gave her a look, "Nice? I thought he said mean things to you?" John asked, putting his fork down.

"Yea, but he was really nice to Miss Helena." She smiled at her, though Helena blinked with puzzlement. John looked between, than continued with his meal.

"Me?"

"Yup! At times, you would kick the blanket off, and he'd get up and tuck it back on you." Helena's face grew warm again. "I don't think he knew I was there, but I hid by the steps watching him when I couldn't go back to sleep. Mr. Sherlock touched your face, like this-"

Dally reached up, and slid her palm down Helena's cheek. Her face became more red as the girl continued. John bit his inner cheek, enjoying the confession that was being made.

"Oh! And he mumbled a lot too, almost like a whisper. Then he did this." Dally stood on the chair, careful of her balance thanks to Helena's holding it. She leaned into Helena's forehead and pressed her lips against her skin. Then immediately plopped back down back into her seat.

"He's strange. Kissing girls when sleeping, doesn't he know that's rude? You should tell him off like this morning." No response was made, "Miss Helena?" Dally looked up at her, the same expression as before arrived though her cheeks were blushing violently into her skin.

"Hey! You're making that face-" Helena quickly covered Dally's mouth and turned her back her plate.

"Shh! We're in public, be more courteous." She scolded, holding Dally's head into the right direction while covering her face with the other hand. John grinned behind his glass of water, if this was true he'd have a few questions for him tonight.

Dally moved her hand and said, "Should Sherlock be scolded again, like this morning? He watched you all night- hey you're face is all red."

Helena fumed with embarrassment and anger! Suddenly, she stood and announced, "I need the loo." And hurried off down a hall of the restaurant into the ladies room. Dally looked to John dumbfounded, "Is Miss Helena alright?"

John chuckled with a nod, "Yes, it's hard to explain, Dally."

She shook her head. "Not really, Mr. Sherlock likes Miss Helena." John put his drink down, and eyed her. "What's so hard about figuring that out?"

John watched her focus back to her food, now nibbling on things. He pondered if she told those things on purpose to see her reaction. No, Dally couldn't be that clever… could she?

In the bathroom, Helena washed her face at the sink. Rubbing the skin roughly, ignoring the looks of other women who were leaving. Looking up at the mirror, she saw the redness spread around her eyes and forehead, cheeks redder from irritating the skin. Helena sighed, leaning on the marble sink counter hanging her head.

What did it matter if Sherlock showed his feelings? He's expressed it before to others, why was she any different? Well, of course everyone else he had shown feeling towards was normal, unlike herself. Even Irene Adler was more normal than her.

But, Sherlock didn't like normal. He liked different, normal was full and boring. Excitement, thrills; she was these things and she liked it.

Helena smiled, she liked these about him too. Looking up back at her reflection seeing the smile stayed, redness faded all but her cheeks. She let out a sigh, and left the restroom to rejoin the two.

"What's wrong, Dally?"

Helena heard John ask as she approached the table seeing Dally rub her stomach with a small frown on her face. Her plate was about empty, but she looked uncomfortable. "My stomach hurts..."

Helena chuckled sitting down, putting an arm around her letting her lean into her side. "You did gobble that food up pretty quickly. Probably a small stomach ache, eh?" She nodded, snuggling into Helena's side.

"You want to take a nap when we get back?" John asked, pushing his empty plate aside and reaching for his wallet in his coat pocket.

She gave another nod, letting out a yawn now feeling sleepy. From what they heard about last night, she didn't get much sleep. "A small nap and you should be right as rain." Helena assured.

John paid the bill and the two got up and left walking back to Baker Street.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson set the couch in her flat for Dally to nap, giving her a cozy blanket and to wake her up when dinner is ready. Helena and John walked upstairs, finding Sherlock with mirrors all over the place and many different open books, along with two opened laptops on different sites. They looked to one another as the detective was swinging a coin tied on a string in front of his face. He was muttering things to himself, glaring at the coin with a tight jaw.

John stepped back, tempted to leave him to his… work. Helena grabbed his arm, not wanting to be left to whatever nonsense he was doing.

Sherlock tossed the coin in frustration across the room and moved to a laptop on the floor, opening a tab to a video. The video was to put the person in a relaxed state- well that explains it.

"Um, Sherlock?" The video paused and he looked over his shoulder seeing his colleagues.

"Ah, perfect timing!" He told, standing up and maneuvering through the mirrors to them while buttoning his blazer. It was like a goddamn mirror maze!

"Timing indeed.." John muttered.

He peeking into the kitchen, only to have his shoulders fall with many things dangling from the ceiling at different levels. He resisted a groan, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. John was going to get bad wrinkles if he kept doing that.

"What exactly is all this? Did you steal these from a carnival?" The stressed doctor asks.

"No." He looked around, almost proud of this work environment he created. "They're from an antique shop."

Helena looked around some more in silence, she herself moved past Sherlock and carefully through the maze as she took her jacket off. "Stole from the shop, then?" She teased with a grin.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore their questions. "It's part of my experiment."

"Experiment of what? Getting through a mirror maze blindfolded?"

Sherlock was growing aggravated at the two. "Hypnosis, and I need a test subject." He stated marching to the kitchen.

John and Helena stared at one another, it was like a contest in whom the guinea pig would. Soon John's hand shot up resting a finger on the tip of his nose before Helena could do the same. She cursed, as John removed his jacket muttering 'your turn anyway' referring to his time at Baskerville. Helena walked to the kitchen, ducking down a tad to avoid some hanging watches and coins, Sherlock walked through uncaringly letting them skim over and through his hair.

"So, how do you plan to start?" She asked.

Sherlock turned to her, "We'll start with the simple ones, including the swinging watch and coin dropping." He informed looking over which pocket watch to take, yanking a silver one off the ceiling as if picking an apple off a tree.

"And where do the mirrors come to play?" Helena followed him back into the living room, where John sat his chair with the laptop in his lap already typing away at his blog. Helena looked on with envy as he lead her to the mirrors and started to rearrange them.

"See if the mirrors take any effect to make this work, then do it with no mirrors or reflects." He suddenly turns yanking a photo off the table and showing her. The photo was of the room where Anthony spoke with the two adults. "Notice any reflection of glass, windows, of any sort?"

"..There are none, including windows at all."

"Right! And when you were there, how would you describe the room to be?"

Helena shrugged her shoulders, "Tight and secure, that's for sure. Like you wouldn't even hear someone scream in there."

"Soundproof, it looks." Sherlock nodded in agreement and tossed the paper back at the table. "We just need total and complete silence." His eyes shot to John who was typing away not listening.

Helena cleared her throat, getting his attention looking to her. "...What?"

"I believe he said _total silence_, John." She informed, putting a finger to her lips and turned to Sherlock. "So, we start with the swinging or the dropping?"

The experiment started with sitting Helena in a circle of mirrors with Sherlock in front of her. John stayed by his chair to observe the entire thing, and to note them down.

He held the watch a foot or two away from her face. Soon, it started swinging in a motion of left to right. Helena's eyes followed it, her attention was concentrated heavily to keep up with it. Brows knotted and jaw clenched, after about five minutes Sherlock dropped the watch.

"It didn't work." Helena stated, rubbing her eyes.

"Of course not." He countered. "You weren't relaxed."

She wiped her eyes and glared, "You would be too, trying to look at one watch with these mirrors showing ten more."

The mirrors ended up being removed, and the two moved to the couch. Sherlock was hoping the mirrors would answer something, but only proved to be a waste of his time and John's money. They started it again, Helena keeping her eyes on the watch, but after two minutes she let out a groan and rubbed her eyes. Sherlock dropped his hand, letting an aggravated sigh out.

"Sorry, it hurts to keep track." She told, blinking the tears out.

John leaned forward, "It shouldn't hurt at all, are you blinking?" he asked letting his doctor side take effect.

"Yea, if anything just trying to relax or get tired." Helena explained, glancing over wiping her eyes.

John frowned in concerned, Sherlock though frowned in frustration. "Her eyes are fine, just try to have this work."

Helena crossed her arms, "Ever thought that it might not be working because I'm not a child?"

"Nonsense, it can be done to anyone of any age."

"Then let's do it to you, then." She argued, trying to snatch the watch from him.

Sherlock yanked it from her reach. "Let me rephrase-"

Helena held a hand up at his face. "Let me stop you before you rephrase, okay?" She sighed and leaned back against the couch arm. "Is there anything you're missing on how to do this correctly?"

Before Sherlock could counter on him doing anything wrong, John spoke up. "Dally said they were talking to Anthony very gently, right?" The two looked to him. "Y'know, calming him down. She said he was very angry when he met them, but their words put him into a calming state. Maybe, speaking gently to relax Helena would help."

Helena scoffed, only to earn a look from her seating partner. "Sherlock speak softly or gently? Now this experiment just became impossible."

Said detective found this to be a challenge, he adjusted his seating. "Fine, fine." Sherlock held the watch up again, Helena's eyes locked onto it, and he started swinging it. "...Just relax, let it soothe you." He told, his voice in a whisper as he watched Helena kept her attention on the watch.

Helena sighed, and shifted herself to try and get into a comfortable position. "Don't let any thoughts bother you, let your mind go." Her eyelids lowered, blinking a few times. John instantly noted down the change in Helena. "If you can't, let your thoughts be engulfed into moments to help you calm your nerves."

Her mind didn't fully go silent, but it did make her think of times she felt safe and de-stressed her. Her breathing got slower, her back leaned against the arm of the couch as hands rested in her lap. Sherlock was about to say more, his lips opened but closed back seeing it was working. Though his mind scrambled about to try and say more relaxing things. Why was it so hard?

Oh, right, John was right there. But, it seemed no more words were needed as Helena's head started to hang gently, then moved to the side resting it against the cushions. Sherlock put the watch down in his lap and waved his hand in her face to make sure she was asleep. He glanced to John, who was noting more of this down.

With a clear of his throat, he leaned forward to her. "Helena Shaw, while in this unconscious state you will awaken to be…" Sherlock paused, glanced to John then back to his sleeping woman. "You will awaken to be happy and lively. Ready to go and walk with me outside the flat, with no argument."

**Snap!**

….Helena didn't wake up. Sherlock snapped his fingers again, nothing. He looked to John, who stood up and came over snapping his fingers as well. Still nothing, John snickered. "I think you just put her into a coma."

Sherlock snapped his fingers a few more times, then clapped his hands in her face. Did he really just put her into a deep sleep unable to wake her up!? He got to his feet, "You can't be-" He groaned in frustration and paced over to the laptop to search for answers.

"She hasn't slept well in a while, remember?" John told, as he got a blanket from a chair and draped it over her.

"Last night should've been enough." He told, as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

John walked over to him, closing the lid just as he moved his fingers. "Let her sleep, Sherlock. You've proven that you can make someone go to sleep through hypnosis."

Sherlock lifted the laptop screen. "Yes, but it gives no answers to how exactly they get these children to agree. If Helena had woken up, and followed me outside it would've proven that's what's happening. But clearly that's not what's at play here."

"Then what else could it be? Dally herself saw the trick and it was working, do you think she forgot something?" He asked hands on his hips.

"Possibly." He turned toward the stairs and quickly headed downstairs. John was about to stop, but looked to the sleeping Helena. She'd be fine, didn't seem any of Sherlock's clapping and stomping down the stairs woke her up.

"John!" Yelled Sherlock from down below, "Get down here!" he sounded urgent.

John ran down the stairs, he looked around and entered Mrs. Hudson's' flat to see Mrs. Hudson kneeling to her couch where Dally was resting. Sherlock stood by, looking down at her, John came closer see the little girl curled up crying with her arms around her stomach.

"Her head is hot and she had just getting over vomiting, said her stomach hurts." Sherlock informed as Mrs. Hudson was soothing her gently.

John moved toward the girl, as Sherlock stepped away watching. "Dally? It's John, where does it hurt?"

Dally shook her head not wanting to speak in fear of getting sick again. John knelt down, she whimpered as he put his hand to her stomach, gently pressing down to indicate it. Soon he found the spot once she let out a small cry.

"It's her appendix." He determined, and checked her drenched forehead. "Call for a cab, she need to get to the hospital." John turned to Sherlock who just stood there, "Sherlock!" He barked getting his attention. "Get a cab, _now_!"

The tall detective turned sharply out the door to track down a cab. He wasn't used to children, so when he arrived and found a distraught Mrs. Hudson he assumed something had happened to her. She insisted she was fine, as Dally was crying curled up on the couch. He didn't know what to do, it was one thing treating wounds Helena had in the past, but a sick child was beyond his knowledge. Though he remembered how bad a case of appendicitis could be, ranging between dangerous to fatal, hence how urgent John was.

A cab was pulled over, John carefully carried Dally into the car taking her to the hospital. Sherlock thought to stay by to inform Helena when she awakens, but Dally needed to be watched over and joined John in the cab. During the entire ride, John soothed Dally down of her whimpers and sobs, while Sherlock urged the cab to go faster.

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**Thank you blah95halb, patamon642, Yuuki-Yasu, , vibrovance, BregoAction, Acenake, Cambm12, EatsRainbow, Snowfire218, Ivyflight, Julia N SnowMiko, StarHobbit, blondemochi, mjcameron, Squishy97, for the follows and favorites!**


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